Stay With Me Tonight
by jazzyproz
Summary: An extended One Shot (admittedly, it could have been a two-parter) exploring the relationship between Phryne and Jack after he'd forced a separation at the close of "Blood at the Wheel". My first foray into this fandom. Rated T for adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hello! Thank you for stopping by to read my story! This is the first time I'm dipping my toes into the fan fic fandom of Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries. If you're one of my followers, you already know I have written a number of stories for the Bones fandom. If you've never read my stuff, I am looking forward to making some new friends :)**

 **Anyone who knows me, or knows my writing style, knows I have a serious weakness for the 'what-if' in a budding or soon-to-be relationship. I love finding alternative ways to bring together, two people that I think belong together. I started watching MFMM a few years back and was always intrigued by the relationship between Phryne and Jack and I'd yearned for a Season 4. I hadn't re-watched the series for a while, but my interest was reignited when I read about the feature film that will begin shooting this year. So Excited! *happy dance***

 **Please note that I'm American, and not really versed in 1920's Australian verbiage and colloquialisms beyond what I have seen on TV. So, please forgive me if I use the wrong words!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with MFMM and mean no copyright infringement!**

 **Occurs after "Blood at the Wheel"**

She remained seated in her parlor and watched, stunned, as he turned away with nothing more than an empty promise to think about the confession she'd made to him, that if he gave up on her, forced a separation between them, she would feel very much like he felt when he thought she'd been killed in that car wreck. There was an unsettling silence that fell over the room. Dot and Mr. Butler had made themselves scarce in anticipation of the Inspector spending an extended amount of time sharing drinks and conversation with their mistress, leading up to an intimate late dinner for two, as was becoming a standard outcome to most evenings the pair shared. Instead, however, the Honorable Miss Fisher was left alone… Alone _and lonely_ in her sudden realization of how much Jack Robinson had come to mean to her.

Following a quiet, solitary supper, before which Mr. B, upon learning of Jack's earlier-than-usual departure, hastily removed the second place-setting, Phryne wandered into the sitting room and took quick possession of the crystal decanter, which had been dutifully filled by her ever-attentive houseman sometime that afternoon. Relocating to her bedroom, she was intent to drink away the anger and hurt that had settled in her abdomen the moment she realized Jack was severing their somewhat informal partnership. Determined to maintain some semblance of patience, the lady of the house was certain that her Chief Detective Inspector would soon realize the error of his ways and would call on her in a day or two, requesting her assistance on an unusual murder case, or perhaps, _she hoped_ , simply seeking her company, which, of course, she would freely give him after an acceptable amount of supplication on the police officer's part.

~MFMM~

Days turned into weeks, and Junior Constable Hugh Collins watched as his role model sank further into a dark misery, trying to suppress and disguise his ever-deepening sadness by immersing himself in case files, refusing to engage in idle conversation and declining daily offers to partake in lunches delivered to him by Dottie, even though his sweetheart always packed enough for two, _just in case_... Collins wished he could do something to help his boss, something to alleviate the hopelessness that seemed to have consumed the entire station like a soggy, oppressing curtain hanging from somewhere far beyond his reach. The young man was at a loss, however, as he didn't even know what had happened to bring about such solemness. The only information he'd been able to garner from Dot was that the Inspector was there one evening, and then he wasn't… and that he hadn't been back since…

He silently observed his fellow-officers as they tiptoed around the common rooms and halls in ways that they hadn't had to do in over a year, cautious against instigating any sort of conversations that may, even in the slightest, hint at civilians aiding on investigations, or engaging in gossip about society party goers that made the papers, for fear that one Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher's name could surface unintentionally. The Detective Inspector had turned into a veritable bear to work with, prone to explosive mood swings and not afraid to publicly reprimand any of his subordinates for doing something not to his liking. Hugh sighed as he bit into the sandwich Dottie had packed for him late one afternoon, wishing he knew how to help the man who was more than a superior and a mentor, but also a friend, but with his limited knowledge of the world, he had very little to offer to Jack Robinson.

For Jack, it was easier on his heart, and on his sanity, to avoid personal interaction with his favorite Constable for fear that news of his dour demeanor might be accidentally shared with Miss Williams, and in turn, make it back to the ears of her Miss. He couldn't help his anger, no matter how hard he tried to talk himself out of letting it rule his entire existence. The Detective hadn't felt this level of despair since returning from the war, after having outlived his countrymen, _his friends_ , many of whom died as they all hunkered down, lying side-by-side in roughly dug-out bunkers… The survivors remorse, for which there was no real diagnosis though it didn't make it less real, that feeling reared it ugly, barely-manageable head when he thought Miss Fisher had died all those weeks ago... And he quickly felt himself mentally transported back in time, back into his darkest of days...

When Jack came home after the war, all he had wanted was acceptance, support and comfort from his bride, from his lovely Rosie. But that wasn't to be. She was accusational and argumentative that he wasn't the same man that she married… that he didn't show her the right sort of affection… that he was moody... that he couldn't seem to give her a family... Jack so desperately wanted, _needed_ , affection and solace from the woman who'd promised to love him in sickness and in health. In his most nightmarish moments, however, she wouldn't even touch him in a platonic manner, not to mention how utterly repulsed she was at the mere notion of allowing him to touch her with any sort of marital-rights. No, his _marital right_ , as it were, was restricted to the briefest of attempts to conceive a child, always under the dark cover of night, and contained zero attempts of romantic overture. Rosie refused to discuss sex, refused to add any variety to sex and most certainly was not a fan of foreplay or post coital cuddling.

When Jack come back from the war a damaged man, not at all the hero about whom poets and lyricist wrote, she frankly didn't want to comfort him or tolerate his moodiness. Ultimately, at the urging of her sister and with the support of her father, she left Jack to his own devices, letting him figure out his mundane, sad existence in stoic solitude, where she wouldn't be forced to witness his demise.

Things had started to change for Jack, however, on that fateful day when he first encountered one Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective. She swept in on his case like an elegantly dressed hurricane - silk, satin and feathers flapping in the tailwind - and continued to resurface time and again, until, against his better judgement, he started looking forward to her uninvited appearances.

He was careful to hide the enjoyment that surged through his body whenever they worked together, futilely ordering her, without actually enforcing his police power, to exclude herself from any and all investigational proceedings and to remove herself from his crime scenes. It was only in the privacy of his home, when he was without onlookers, that he would smile in recollection of something she'd said or done earlier in the day or week, or he would chuckle at the thought of the way she flitted around the official government building housing their station, rendering the young constables and officers tongue-tied and dumb-founded with her coy expressions and sly smiles. _Most of those boys never stood a chance_ , he often mused, ignoring his own inability to refuse his Lady Detective anything she requested...

He knew, as well, that not only had _he_ changed, but the morale within the City South Police Station had been boosted when Miss Fisher's interference became more frequent. Jack Robinson was no idiot, and he was definitely not so naive as to suspect there was no correlation between the two phenomenon. Phryne Fisher had an inexplicable grounding effect on him; she helped anchor him through stormy weather and as a result, his own temperament had been mitigated, resulting in a more agreeable work environment for his subordinates. The countless bags of biscuits and sweets that often found their way into the break room certainly didn't hurt, either, he smirked.

When that call came, however… That broken, static-filled message about an 'automobile accident...Miss Fisher...dead…', his world was flipped upside down and inside out. He broke every speed limit between the station and the accident scene, barely keeping his own vehicle on the road, trying to reach her, terrified at what he knew he'd be forced to examine.

And then… as he was lifting up the sheet that had been so carefully placed over the deceased woman's body in the driver's seat, her voice reached his ears and he felt dizzy. It was mind-boggling how quickly his emotions morphed from despair and anguish, to relief that she was alive, to anger that she held this kind of power over him, all while being oblivious to the true nature of his feelings.

 _ **No**_ , he had told himself firmly. Miss Fisher's hold on his heart had to stop then and there. He helped solve the case, for the sake of finding justice for the deceased and no other reason. But once the case was closed, he knew he had made the right decision in severing their partnership, otherwise he knew he was going to drown. He couldn't afford to empower her with strength over him any longer, it was too great a risk and he knew there was never a chance that she'd feel the same for him. The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher was far, _far_ out of his league, and she could easily chew him up and spit him out without so much as a blink of her long, elegant eyelashes.

~MFMM~

At Miss Fisher's St. Kilda home, Dottie and Mr. Butler had been helpless as their esteemed employer grew more solemn with each passing day, only accepting cases that involved such mysteries that would quite obviously keep her presence far away from City South Station officials, respecting Jack's blatant need to keep at a distance. She went through the motions and solved what she referred to as 'frivolous mishaps' and ' _un-_ mysterious mysteries'.

The normally-energetic socialite declined to entertain invitations from a plethora of male callers who'd courted her in hopes of having her join them for the next charity ball, or to keep company for an evening at the theater. Her quick-witted tongue was swift to shatter any and all attempts by her overbearing Aunt Prudence, as she tried to force Phryne into taking afternoon tea with gentlemen that the widow considered acceptable, and the independent private eye was not shy about defending her Detective Inspector against the venom-laced insults that the older woman was so fond of flinging around, even though he had all but turned his back on her.

Miss Fisher took most suppers alone, occasionally joined by the ever-loyal Dr. Macmillan. After countless lectures from Mac, during most of which Phryne flat-out refused to discuss the circumstances surrounding her self-imposed celibacy and isolation, Phryne's walls started to slowly crumble. It took a particularly late evening strengthened by a generous supply of hard liquor and coaxing before the stubborn brunette finally gave in, revealing her troubles to her dear friend. Through tears and sobs, Phryne told Mac about the dejection she'd been experiencing ever since Jack walked out her front door without so much as a backwards glance. Her words, though carefully chosen, unintentionally revealed to the insightful doctor just how deeply infatuated she had become with the City South policeman and Mac couldn't help but feel bad for her longtime friend.

What Mac _didn't_ reveal to Phryne, though, was that she'd heard, through the grapevine, that a certain Detective Inspector was every bit as miserable as she was. When Dot had mentioned to Mac what her beau had related to her, about the Inspector's ever-growing sullenness, Mac had decided that she'd pay a little visit to Jack in a day or two, not only to see with her own eyes just how he's handling the separation, but to put a little bug in his ear about visiting their mutual friend. All she had to do to was figure out a believable excuse that would 'find' her at the City South Police Station and prompt the Inspector to actually speak to her. In the meantime, Mac sat with her friend, listening, soothing, and sympathizing as she patted the back of her thin, pale hand as she held it in her own.

"You need to get out of the house, Phryne." Mac told her softly. "It's not healthy to isolate yourself just because you and Jack had a fight."

"We didn't have a _fight_ ," Phryne insisted with anger. "He _left_ me, Mac! I pushed him… he pushed me back… He pushed me away…"

Dr. Elizabeth Macmillan released Phryne's hand and reached for her drink, knocking it back in one gulp before pouring another finger-measure of the amber liquor. She rested her elbows on her knees and looked sideways at the red-rimmed eyes of the woman who rarely let anyone see her as anything but strong and independent. Inhaling slowly, she considered her words carefully.

"Phryne, from what you've told me about your dear Jack, I imagine he's having more than just a negative reaction to the possibility that you'd been killed in that crash. You've got to think about what he's been through, emotionally and physically, in the past. It can't be that simple…. The pain he felt leaving his family to go to war... the agony of watching comrades gunned down… his inability to help them…" She shrugged, pinning Phryne with a knowing eye, hoping her friend could, at the very least, relate to the need to save those she cared about. "And then, the heartbreak he experienced when he returned; to be thrown away like yesterday's rubbish… He probably only just started feeling alive again, in large part to your positive influence on him… And then he thought you'd been ripped away…"

This new point of view that Mac offered, Phryne admonished herself for not thinking about it first, for being so self-absorbed that she failed to see the blatant pain that he had been experiencing. She had, as always, conducted herself business-as-usual, plowing head-first into the case and demanding that Jack take the case. Thinking back to that day, standing beside the wreck, the look on his face should have told her something was wrong. Something more than her sudden appearance had disturbed him, but she failed to recognize it.

"What should I do?" She asked quietly, unaccustomed to not knowing how to proceed.

"You need to give him time, Phryne. Give him a chance to come to terms with his own feelings and emotions. Once he comes around, he'll be back. And then the two of you need to talk. _Seriously_ talk."

"What," she swallowed thickly, almost afraid to voice her fears. "What if he doesn't? What if he doesn't want to come back?"

Mac looked at her friend, knowing that her vulnerability must be killing her, but also knowing her well enough that she wouldn't dare soften her advice. "Then… You'll either need to go after him, _or…_ you need to move on. You were happy before Jack Robinson, you'll be fine if he's gone…"

~MFMM~

Late the following morning, though Phryne wasn't in the mood to work, she needed to follow up on a lead for her latest solo case. Selecting her outfit carefully, she chose an unassuming pantsuit and opted to forgo jewelry altogether. Her investigation would take her to a labor-populated, less-favorable side of Melbourne.

"Dot?" Miss Fisher spoke to her companion's reflection in her mirror, as she sat at her vanity applying her face powder.

"Yes, Miss?" Dot busied herself, folding her mistress's nightgown and preparing the make the bed.

"I expect to be gone most of the day. Bert and Cec have agreed to follow me, given the volatility of the locale. I'd prefer them to stay out of sight, so as to not tip anyone off about the purpose of my presence. I'd like you to pack enough food for them to keep in the cab, so they will not have to stray from the car park where I direct them."

"Yes, Miss." Dot curtsied with a gentle nod. "Shall I go prepare that now, before I continue here?"

"If you would, yes. I would like to leave directly after I finish my tea and toast."

Dot quickly took the back stairs down to the kitchen, finding Miss Fisher's two pseudo-bodyguards sitting at the table, finishing crumbs from a tray that _had_ held a good portion of her morning's-worth of baking. With an expression of shock, her hands went to her hips as she immediately gave the boys a tongue lashing for eating the entire tray of sweet Anzac biscuits. She snatched the tray from the center of the table, reprimanding them as if they were children, as if she were scolding her nephews, instead of addressing the two grown men who were charged to keep her employer safe.

Following Miss Fisher's instructions, she packed a generous amount of food into a basket and filled two thermos containers with hot tea, all while lecturing the boys, reminding them to keep clear minds and to pay close attention to their Miss. To their credit, Bert and Cec sat quietly as Dot droned on and on, eyeing each other behind her back and pulling comical expressions before schooling their faces immediately whenever she turned around to ensure they were listening.

When Miss Fisher floated into the small kitchen, she accepted the car keys from Mr. Butler, who always seemed to know just what she was going to request before she had a chance to voice the words.

"Thank you, Mr. B." She smiled. "As I said to Dot, I expect to be out all afternoon and into the evening, so there is no need to fix dinner. Go ahead and make something for yourself and Dot, but don't worry about me. I will have something when I'm ready, after I complete my investigations. I suspect I will need to eat some of the local fare in order to initiate some lines of questions."

"Very good, Miss." Mr. Butler nodded, already planning to make something that would store well in the icebox for when she arrived back home, in case she returned feeling peckish after a day of work.

"Bert, Cec," Miss Fisher moved her attention to the men who stood by the door, ready to follow her instructions. "You know where we are going, please keep behind me on the way and once I park, you may select a space close-by, but not immediately next to the Hispano-Suiza, I don't want anyone who happens to see us pull in to think that we are together. It is of the utmost importance that I am, by all appearances, alone. Otherwise, those with whom I intend to speak may grow suspicious and clam up."

"Yes, Miss," the men nodded in understanding. "But the minute you need us, we'll be there. If you need to go inside or somethin', one of us will find an excuse to get closer. Just like we talked about."

With nothing more to discuss, the trio was on their way, Miss Fisher leading while giving Bert a silent challenge to keep up with her speed as she hit the open road and laughed gleefully at the freedom she felt whenever she drove.

~MFMM~

The cabbies-turned-guards found an opportunistic parking space that would afford them an excellent vantage point from which they could keep an eye on their charge as she loitered near shop fronts and pubs, asking her questions and doing her level best not to appear as out of place as she truly was. They remained in their cab, their heads against the seat backs with their hats pulled almost over their eyes, as if to give the impression of a couple of drivers catching some sleep after a long night of driving or in preparation of an even longer Friday night ahead, driving pub-goers around town late into the night. Their attention, however, never strayed from the brunette who stood out, even in a plain, unadorned pantsuit, as she asked questions to men changing shifts or taking supper on the sidewalk benches.

As the sun started to set, Phryne was about to give up and return to her car when she was approached by a burly man who had been watching from the pub. Bert started to sit up, his gut instinct telling him something was off, but Cec grunted, wordlessly telling his partner to sit still as he tried to hear the conversation through the open window.

When they couldn't understand what was being said, both men moved their hats and finally started to look alert. They watched, as Miss Fisher listened to the stranger and nodded when he pointed to another building, one that was on the far side of the row, one that was steeped in shadows and screamed of ominous goings-on.

"Don't do it," Bert muttered under his breath, but it was in vain. Of course she was going to follow the man's direction, thanking him with an assertive handshake before turning her back on him and walking down the street with a purpose. What she didn't see, however, was exactly what the boys were afraid of…. The stranger portending to be so helpful started to follow her, his stalking stride making it obvious that his intentions were anything but honorable.

Deciding without argument that they would both follow their employer, the men slipped from their cab once Miss Fisher had turned a corner, so they wouldn't distract her or blow her cover in the event they were overreacting. Walking at a fast clip, they tailed the dark-suited man until he ducked out of sight, around the same corner where Miss Fisher had gone. To their horror, they heard a muffled cry before they reached the edge of the building, forcing them both into an all-out run. It sounded as if someone had clamped a hand across her mouth just as she started to scream and they skidded to the alleyway just in time to see a man poised over Miss Fisher's body where she lay on the gravel, his hand ripping open the front of her outfit after apparently silencing her with a backhand across her jaw.

Acting quickly, the cabbies jumped on the stranger's back, pulling him away from their unconscious employer. While Cec went about punching the man's kidneys, Bert quickly wrapped a surprisingly strong arm around his neck, placing the man into a choke-hold as he pulled him further backwards, forcing the man to his knees. Miss Fisher's employees may have been considerably smaller than the assailant, but they benefited from the element of surprise over him as well as the advantage of two-on-one.

Subduing the angry laborer, Bert drove his elbow into the man's nose, a satisfied grin spreading across his mouth at the distinct sound of a broken nose. They hogtied him in place, and once they were certain he was secured, Cec went to check on Miss Fisher while Bert ran to the street side pub to call for the police.

Without thinking twice, he immediately demanded to be connected to City South Police Station, and requested to speak to DI Jack Robinson. There was a police station closer to their location, one that covered this jurisdiction, but Bert acted out of pure instinct and knew she would prefer the professionalism, confidence and discretion that Jack would offer, as opposed to another less understanding copper who didn't know Miss Fisher. Besides that, he knew that while he may not always see eye-to-eye with the straight and narrow police detective, Miss Fisher had a special place in his heart for the Inspector.

~MFMM~

Ignoring the fact that the location was miles outside of his jurisdiction, Jack responded immediately to the emergency call, forgetting all of the anger that had been taking up residence in his gut. Demanding that Collins accompany him, they sped to the location and Jack ignored the fact that he was, once again, breaking countless traffic laws as he raced to Phryne's side.

When he slammed the brakes to a stop on the street outside the establishment from which Bert had called, Jack didn't care about dodgy goings-on in the immediate area, his eyes were scanning the car park for the familiar faces that had prompted his quick action. Seeing Bert a short distance away, at the mouth of an alleyway, waving for his attention, Jack took off running, his heart racing for reasons other than his swift activity.

Anxious to check on Phryne first, Jack dropped to his knees to examine his Lady Detective. Instantly feeling his blood boil in reaction to her facial injuries, he pressed his palm to her forehead, muttering her name as her eyelids fluttered.

Cec explained as Jack did his preliminary examination, that she had appeared to be in and out of consciousness, complaining that her head hurt when she first woke. Jack was bold enough to run a gentle hand through her short hair and across the back of her head, feeling for the knot he knew would be there.

He clenched his teeth when his fingers grew wet with blood and he took his handkerchief from his pocket and held it in place. Knowing that his Constable was shackling her attacker, he continued his attempts to communicate with his confused partner.

"Miss Fisher?" He beckoned her softly as one palm cradled her jaw. "Open your eyes." When her brow wrinkled, he knew she'd heard him and somewhere in the back of his mind he cursed the independent woman for refusing to follow even this, the most basic of requests. "Phryne," he used her given name, something he was not wont to do. "Please, Love, open your eyes. It's Jack." He swallowed thickly, hoping she would recognize him, silently praying that her intelligent brain hadn't been permanently injured when her attacker struck.

Brushing the fringe from her forehead, he leaned closer, far closer than he ever dared before, speaking close to her cheek, back towards her ear. "I'm going to call for an ambulance transport and have you taken to hospital."

"No," she managed to croak, her head pounding terribly as she grimaced at the unmistakable taste of blood in her mouth.

"Miss Fisher," Jack pulled back and eyed her carefully, resuming the formal address. He inhaled slowly, waiting for her to look at him.

"Call Mac," her hand reached out and blindly grasped at Jack's lapel. "You drive me home. She will see me there."

"You really should go to hospital, Miss Fisher," he was worried about a possible concussion, seeing as how she seemed to be hazy.

Finally her eyelids fluttered open, revealing the blue eyes he'd been missing for weeks. In a weak, quiet whisper, she implored the inspector. "Please, Jack. Mac is an excellent doctor. You drive me in the Hispano."

Knowing there was a strong possibility that Mac was as good as, if not a better physician than that which she might get in the local hospital clinic, he relented with a single nod. Gently wiping his thumb along her lower lip, he removed a smudge of blood not yet dried. "Alright."

He took off his long coat and then his suit jacket. Using his blazer as a pillow, he replace his hand that had been cradling the handkerchief to the back of her head. "Don't move," he spread his long trench coat over her prostrate body. "I'll be right back."

Pushing to his feet and turning in his heel, he spoke to Cec without taking his eyes off the handcuffed man who had dared attack Miss Fisher.

"Stay with Miss Fisher, Cecil," he said as he stalked over to where his Constable held the man in shackles. It was clear that Bert and Cec had done a job on him, for which Jack was appreciative. As an officer of the law, he had to maintain his temper and refrain from inciting violence, but that didn't mean that he wasn't vibrating with the urge to lay into the stranger for committing the crime against his Lady Detective.

When the prisoner started to complain and threaten to file an official gripe against the men who had attacked him from behind, Jack leveled a cold, hard stare at him, not in the least bit intimidated by his relative larger size. Stepping close, he inhaled slowly, grimacing at the stench of alcohol, and swallowed a growl that was forming deep in his chest.

"You would do well to shut your mouth at this time. You are under arrest for the assault, and attempted sexual interference, of one Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher. Anything you say may be used as evidence against you…" Hardening his features, he made sure he had the man's attention, his voice dropping a half octave. "And be assured, I will see to it that you are penalized to the highest degree of the law for your transgression."

The man cut off Jack's thinly veiled threat, attempting to lunge at him in a blind fury.

Hugh had a firm hold on the cuffs latched around the man's wrists and gave a sharp tug, pulling him back in line. "Oy, stand still."

"Constable," Jack addressed Hugh. "Take this man back to City South and lock him up." Jack kept talking, ignoring the outburst of profanity spewing from the man's filthy mouth. "Begin processing the paperwork and I will review once I've returned from escorting Miss Fisher to seek medical attention. I will take her statement if she is up to it, otherwise it will need to wait until tomorrow." He turned to Bert and Cec, nodding at the men. "I'd like you both to return to the station, as well, and give your statements as to what you saw, and any other information you may find pertinent."

They both nodded, but Bert answered. "Sure. Y'know, I'm not partial to visiting you coppers, but in this instance, I'll make an exception.. I wanna see this bloke pay for what he done to our Miss."

Cec looked at the inspector. "Are you going to drive Miss Fisher? We don't mind."

"I'll take her," Jack answered instantly, leaving no room for discussion.

"I'd like to ride with Hugh." Bert chewed a toothpick. "This guy is pretty aggressive."

Jack considered the offer as Hugh interrupted. "I assure you I'm capable of controlling the prisoner. But thank you."

"It won't hurt, Hugh" Jack replied with a sensible nod. "Besides, I have another request for Cecil before he leaves. Go ahead and take Albert with you."

Hugh wouldn't defy his orders, but was irritated that the people around him apparently thought he needed assistance. "Right, then," he looked at Bert, his lips pressing together tightly. "Come on."

Watching his loyal Constable walk away, pushing the perpetrator not so gently, he nodded at Bert as their eyes met in mutual appreciation that overrode all of their previous disagreements. Turning back to where Miss Fisher was by then sitting upright with the help of her loyal cabbie, he squatted down in front of her. Searching her eyes, Jack looked for any indication of incoherency. When he found none, he reached out and laid his hand on top of hers.

"Do you think you can stand?" He asked Miss Fisher, his eyes flicking to Cec as the younger man shook his head gently, indicating that she was fully leaning against him while seated.

"Y-yes, I think so," she felt dazed, but confident that she was in control of her faculties. As she tried to get her feet under her to stand, however, her balance was clearly impacted and she swayed towards Jack, reaching out to him without hesitation as she fell back onto her bottom.

The Inspector caught her easily as she fell forward, his hand splaying cross her rib cage carefully. "Alright…"

"Oh, sorry Jack," she muttered softly as she wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "I thought I could…"

Shifting his eyes to Cec, he plotted their next steps. "I'll take Miss Fisher to her car and drive her home. I need you to go into the pub, over there, and call the Women's Clinic. Tell Dr. Macmillan that Miss Fisher has been injured and is requesting that she meet us at Miss Fisher's home. Then I need you to drive to the City South Station and give your statement to Hugh." He glanced down at Phryne as she rested her cheek against the front of his shoulder, then addressed Cec once more. "Make sure your statement is thorough, include as many details as possible but do not exaggerate anything. We want a clean case against this guy."

Cec shifted to stand up, trusting the officer to take care of his employer. He wasn't a fan of the Victoria Police in general, but as far as coppers went, Jack Robinson was alright in his book, because Miss Fisher trusted him.

Before Cec got too far away, Jack called out to him once more. "Cecil? Thanks for calling my station, rather than the local precinct."

"It's what Miss woulda wanted... if she weren't so dazed, and had been able to've instructed us."

Jack nodded and looked down at the Lady Detective, who was still leaning heavily on him, no longer trying to sit up on her own. "Miss Fisher?" He craned his neck to look at her face. "Are you sure you don't want to go to Hospital? We can ask Dr. Macmillan to meet you there…?"

"No." Phryne hated hospitals. She supposed her aversion stemmed to her time working as a wartime nurse… hospitals gave her a bad feeling when she was the one lying in the bed.

"Alright, well, hang on then." He shifted to spread his feet for better balance and scooped his arm into beneath her knees, keeping his other arm around her torso. His trench coat bunched up across her torso, covering the torn clothing, and his bloodied suit jacket dangled from his fingers. "Put your arms around my neck, Phryne."

She did as instructed and felt an inexplicable sensation of safety. She struggled with this emotion because she was an independent, modern woman, and she didn't want to depend on anyone else to make her feel secure… but Jack was different from the other men with whom she generally socialized, and she didn't quite know when Jack had become such a trusted member of her unconventional family.

Phryne's head hurt, and she didn't want to think about anything anymore. She let her head lull against Jack's shoulder, having faith in him to get her home safely.

Jack was surprisingly strong, despite his lean appearance. His years as a soldier and a police officer ingrained a rigorous workout routine, which, when coupled with his passion for cycling, helped maintain a healthy strength. He lifted his pseudo-partner with ease and walked out to the car park, to where he'd spotted her car when he and Hugh first pulled in.

"Are you in pain?" He spoke quietly as they moved, his concern obvious.

"My head hurts. I'm... disoriented." She tried to maintain her ever present logic and reached back into her memory to when she had treated wounded soldiers. "I believe I've been concussed."

"Most likely," he replied as he placed her gently into the passenger seat of the car. "Nothing else hurts?"

She shook her head. "Only my pride…" She hated feeling vulnerable, but she was thankful for Bert and Cec and their keen instincts to have followed her.

He looked down at her, noting how small she looked when injured. "No need to feel like that, Miss Fisher." He had so many things running through his mind. He wanted to lecture her about placing herself in harm's way… he wanted to tell her how much he'd missed her and how sorry he was to have forced her away… he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. But the only thing he could say at the moment had nothing whatsoever to do with any of those things. "Let's get you home, Miss Fisher."

~MFMM~

Phryne started feeling more alert on the trip back to St. Kilda, the air in her face as Jack drove, obviously doing some good. The pain in her head was still pounding, but her focus came back and her equilibrium seemed to have stabilized. She kept her head against the seat back, still cushioned against Jack's suit jacket, though she didn't realize that was what he'd set to cradle her so carefully.

Watching Jack as he drove, she noted the way he kept clenching his teeth, causing his jaw muscles to flex and tighten before returning to their relaxed state. She studied his profile, admiring him without speaking. He was not a dashing man, not one that would grab a woman's attention just by walking into a room, but there was something about him that had drawn her into his orbit; a magnetism, no matter how subdued, that called to her on an ancient, subconscious level. Her eyes felt so heavy; the soothing rhythm of the tires crunching over the hard-packed road combined with the safety and security she felt with Jack coaxed her eyelids to fall closed.

"Miss Fisher," Jack reached over and placed his hand atop hers. "Don't fall asleep." He kept his eyes on the road in front of them but squeezed her fingers between his.

"I'm alright," she replied quietly. "Just tired…"

"Phryne," he glanced at her and saw that her eyes were already closed. "Stay awake, Phryne." He jostled her hand. "You've sustained a head injury," he tried to talk reason to her, but could tell she was drifting into slumber.

Pulling the car off the road and stopping, Jack turned to her completely. He continued holding her hand and brought his other palm up to her cheek, cupping it tenderly. "Phryne, sweetheart, wake up," he hadn't meant for the endearment to slip out, but he'd been saying it for so long in his own thoughts, it felt perfectly natural rolling off his tongue aloud.

Her eyelids fluttered at the intimate moniker, the warmth of Jack's voice as he spoke it, washing over her like nothing she'd ever experienced. She turned her hand, so it was palm-to-palm with his, and her slightly-dazed eyes looked at him with tender curiosity. She nodded her head, ever so slightly, to acknowledge his concern.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I need to stay awake."

He dipped his head once in agreement, his eyes never leaving hers, his lips tight with worry. "You may be concussed. We won't know until Dr. Macmillan has examined you… So please, don't fall asleep yet."

Understanding his words, she became more distracted by the fact that he was there with her, after all this time apart. The fluttering of her heart reminded her of how much she'd missed him.

"You came for me…"

With an exaggeratedly resigned sigh, one corner of his mouth twitched upward as his thumb swept carefully along the bottom edge of her lower lip. "Of course I came for you, Miss Fisher."

"You just called me Phryne." She dared to believe that he felt as strongly for her as she did for him. "You called me _Sweetheart…_ "

"I had to...get your attention somehow…" He lied, knowing he shouldn't reveal his affection for her quite yet. "If I deliver an _unconscious_ Miss Fisher to Dr. Macmillan, she will have my head on a platter…" His dry humor peeked through his worried exterior. "And I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to avoid such a demise."

At that, they shared a knowing smile. While neither was quite ready to admit to anything, they both knew in their own hearts, that although the circumstance that had reunited them was less than ideal, it would lead to an inevitable conversation that had the potential to repair their heartaches.

~MFMM~

Phryne leaned heavily against Jack as he escorted her up her sidewalk towards the stairs that would lead to her front door. They walked slowly, his arm wrapped around her body as hers were looped around his waist. Before they reached the first step, Mr. Butler was opening the front door and rushing down to assist.

"Oh, Miss Fisher," he said. "When Dr. Macmillan arrived this evening, she told us of her summons to meet you here." He stood on the side opposite Jack and held his mistress's elbow carefully as she took one measured step after another until she reached the porch. "Straight into the parlor for you, Miss," he took control of the situation immediately. "We've gotten everything ready according to Dr. Macmillan's instruction."

Not lifting her cheek from where it rested against Jack's shoulder, she simply nodded her appreciation. The bright light was hurting her eyes and causing her aching head to throb once again. "Ugh," she groaned and squeezed her lids closed. "Bright in here…"

Mac rushed forward, hearing her friend's complaint and motioning for the men to guide her to the chaise lounge that was covered by a white sterile sheet. "Well, it needs to be bright in here, Phryne," she said in her no-nonsense tone. It was a defense mechanism for her to speak frankly in order to maintain some sense of control over her emotions. "If the lights aren't on, how could I be expected to examine you?"

Not wanting a lesson, Phryne fluttered her fingers in the air, dismissing the doctor's explanation. "I know…" She sat down, still gripping Jack with a surprisingly strong grasp.

Unwrapping his hand from her waist, Jack took her fingers in his, pulling them gently from his bicep and eased her back. "Lie back, Miss Fisher," he said softly, his face close to hers. "Easy," he warned so she wouldn't make any sudden movements.

When she unfurled her fingers from his, the Detective Inspector squatted down beside the chaise, hesitant to be too far from her side. When Mac eyed him, however, with a stern expression, he swallowed thickly and pushed to his full height.

"I kept her awake one the way," he explained as Mac got to work, mentally cataloguing the injuries she could see with a cursory examination. "Bert and Cec were not certain if she lost full consciousness or if she was only dazed by the blow to her head. She's been awake since I've been with her, but has been struggling to stay alert."

Mac was angry at what had happened to her friend, but knew she'd have to save the lecture about lurking in questionable neighborhoods for another time, so she could focus on her examination. Directing Dot for what she needed, she then turned to Jack and noticed the intensity in his gaze as he looked down at his drowsy partner. There was no doubt in her mind that the Chief Detective Inspector adored the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher and he was worried, but she had to ask him to leave.

"Inspector," she touched his arm and drew his attention. "I will need to ask you to leave, so I can examine Phryne."

"Oh, right," he nodded in understanding, realizing only then that he was still holding one of her hands in his. Gently lowering her hand, he was bold enough to drag a single finger along her jawline, careful not to press on the darkening bruise that had formed there as he spoke to her. "Miss Fisher, I need to go back to the station. I will leave your keys with Mr. Butler. And I will come see you tomorrow. Your statement can wait until then."

"No," her arm darted out with unexpected speed and accuracy for a woman who was somewhat delirious. "Take the Hispano," she blinked up at him. "No need to walk or take a cab. Take my car, just bring it back tonight."

"It may be quite late by the time I'm finished, Phryne," he reverted to her given name as he squatted down to allow her to avoid the overhead light. "Hugh can only begin the paperwork, I need to finalize it and ensure we have the boys' statements."

She touched his lapel lightly as her voice grew quiet. "You're always welcome in my home, Jack, no matter the hour..." Her eyes flicked to Mac and although her friend was trying to give her a chance to speak to her inspector, it was clear that she was more anxious to begin her exam. "Mr. Butler will provide you with a front door key. If I'm not down here, come upstairs to see me."

Mac tugged at Jack's shoulder not-so-gently. "Really, Jack, I need to look over Phryne. You have her blessing to come back, you can talk then," she ushered him out quickly, pulling the parlor doors closed once he crossed the threshold with just the barest instruction to Mr. Butler to follow Miss Fisher's wishes to give Jack a key.

~MFMM~

Fixing a stern expression, Jack stormed into the City South Station, not caring that the door slammed and rattled against the wall. Blinded to the scurry of subordinate officers who tried to get out of his way, he eyed his favorite Constable and stalked to his desk.

"You got the statements?" He demanded without preamble.

Hugh darted to his feet, squaring his shoulders quickly. "Y-yes, sir." His hands dropped to the forms he was just finalizing and grabbed them, handing them over to Jack without hesitation. "Bert and Cec are waiting in the Interview Room for you, ready to sign these once you've met with them."

Jack nodded, listening to Hugh as he skimmed the statements. "And the prisoner, has he said anything?"

"No, sir." Hugh licked his lips nervously. "He hasn't said a word. He's locked up downstairs… He smells strongly of whiskey, sir. And… seemed unable to maintain his balance once the fight went out of 'im." Flicking his eyes to another officer who'd helped him drag the drunken man down the stairs, he looked back at Jack. "He, umm, didn't quite make it onto the bunk in the cell, sir…"

Jack quirked an eyebrow at the younger man. "Collins?"

"And," he shrugged one shoulder, the movement nearly imperceptible. "He, uhh, may have tripped a little on his way down the stairs to the holding cells… Even with two of us carrying him, he was quite uncooperative in his mobility as he faded in and out of his stupor…"

Jack nearly smiled at Collins, but bit it back for the sake of professionalism. "Well, I'll go have a word with those two rabble rousers before dismissing them. And then," he tilted his head slightly. "You can drag him back upstairs to the interview room and start him on some strong black coffee. I am doing this interview tonight."

The meeting with Bert and Cec was brief and to the point. While the Inspector and the cabbies were as far apart as possible on the spectrum of politics and government opinions, they all wanted the best for their Miss Fisher. The boys respected Jack and Hugh only because of their standings with the Fisher household, and they were eager to cooperate with the execution of their statements. Their eye-witness accounts, when combined with the evidence of Miss Fisher's assault, were detailed enough that they could be sure to lock her attacker away for life. Jack, however, wanted more. He was like a wolf on the scent of his prey and he was determined to get a confession out of the man no matter what.

Sending Miss Fisher's employees on their way, he knew they'd be skipping the pub that night in favor of spending the evening at the St. Kilda home, for no other reason that moral support to the household, and for that, Jack was appreciative of their loyalty.

Entering the hallway, he moved towards the second interview room and called for Hugh. Once Collins was at his side, he slammed into that room with as much force as he had when he first entered the station. Jack pinned the man on the opposite side of the table with a dark, threatening glare.

"What have you to say for yourself," he growled. When the man, whose head was hung down, didn't answer, Jack pounded his hand against the table, startling the drunkard awake. "I said," he leaned on the table, "what have you to _say_ for yourself!?"

"She were in the wrong place," he grunted. "Tarts like 'er ask fer it." He belched, the coffee Hugh had forced upon him gurgling in his throat. "What wit' 'er little hat, an' 'er tight lit'le pants, she were practically askin' fer attention… So I give 'er some an' then she started screamin' like she don't wan' it… That whor-"

"Enough!" His hand pounded against the table once again, cutting off the man's insults of his Miss Fisher. "You attacked an honorable woman who was doing nothing more than asking questions. She is a Lady Detective, and in my eyes," his volume dropped low, threatening, "which, incidentally, are the eyes of the _law_ ," he cocked an eyebrow, "that's as good as attacking a fellow officer…"

"She weren't no detect-" His words were cut off as Jack shoved a business card in his direction.

"Wrong again, _mate_ ," his tone was venomous. "And with you admitting, to two officers of the Victoria Police Constabulary, that you thought she was _asking for it_ , so you _gave her the attention you thought she wanted_ , that's a confession of guilt that you attacked an unsuspecting woman unprovoked." He stood upright, noting with satisfaction as the prisoner's expression paled in realization. "And I assure you," he glanced at the file for the man's name, "Mr. Hawke, that I will pursue this case to the highest court, and see to it that you are prosecuted and punished to the fullest extent of the law."

His tone of voice left no room for doubt that this case was very personal to him. Glaring at the man who hadn't stood a chance in hell against the Chief Detective Inspector, Jack spoke to his Constable.

"Collins, throw this man back into the holding cell. I want his file on my desk by first thing in the morning. I'll be collecting Miss Fisher's statement this evening following her medical exam, if she is up to it, and will finalize the report tomorrow."

Without further delay, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, jerking his chin at Constable Morris. "Assist Collins with relocating the prisoner back downstairs. He does not go free on his own recognizance, he is to remain locked up."

Jack grabbed his hat and his spare long coat from the office and marched back outside, intent to get back over to Miss Fisher's residence before it got any later.

~MFMM~

When Jack pulled the Hispano-Suiza in front of Miss Fisher's home, he saw that the porch light had been left on, presumably in anticipation of his return. Most of the interior house lights appeared to be extinguished, but the curtains in front parlor window were parted just enough to allow a sliver of light to peek through. With a slight hesitation, he approached the front door, fingering the key in his hand nervously. Although Miss Fisher had made it perfectly clear that she wanted him to let himself in, he still felt odd at taking such a bold move when he'd never done anything like it before.

In his life, Jack had never possessed a house key that wasn't for his own home. When he and Rosie had married, she moved into his humble, single story flat, for which he'd spent months saving and purchased in anticipation of their nuptials. She stayed there, naturally, while he was off fighting in the war. When he finally came back, and she decided that he was too broken to fix, and not worth the fight, she moved out, taking with her most of their furnishings, leaving behind empty rooms in which he could dwell miserably.

It wasn't until the divorce was final that Jack started to, once again, feel at ease in his own home. With no possibility of his wife returning, and no hopes of a reconciliation, the Victoria Police Detective finally trusted himself to put his own touch on the rooms. While much of the dwelling remained vacant and unoccupied, the open archways leading to those unused spaces long since sealed off with hanging blankets to limit the need to heat them, he arranged his study just the way he wanted it. Floor to ceiling bookshelves were filled with numerous volumes of classics, collections of Lawson's short stories, Poe's tales of the macabre, even an entire shelf completely devoted to Shakespeare. He'd arranged his leather chair and ottoman close enough to the fireplace to reap its benefits while still being far enough away to avoid the risk of an occasional errant spark from marring the material. A framed photo of his parents stood on one of the shelves housing a collection of police studies, and on the occasional table at his chair side, there were two photos that no one else knew he possessed... He'd brought them home from the station having removed them from an arrest file that was never quite completed for one Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher.

Early on in their unconventional partnership, he'd been forced to arrest the Lady Detective, and his young Constable struggled to capture even a single acceptable arrest photo of the impish woman. Jack had been tempted to bring the whole pile of images home with him, the urge to tuck them into some of his favorite volumes was almost overwhelming. He knew, however, that he couldn't justify confiscating them all for his own amusement, and if the incomplete report was ever questioned by his superiors, one or two missing shots would be easily overlooked.

How many nights had he sat in his over-sized brown leather chair, a volume of his favorite bard's _Sonnets_ or his well-worn copy of _Antony and Cleopatra_ sitting on his lap, long forgotten, as he studied a photo of Miss Fisher striking an outrageous pose for the camera, or creating a mask with her fingers around her eyes? Far too many long eves to count, if he was honest with himself, especially over these most recent weeks of self-imposed isolation. Often, he found himself chuckling at her carefree spirit and missing her presence in his office, and at his crime scenes. It's true that while he had very few things in his house giving it a _homey_ feeling, the select few things that brought him real joy most often reminded him of her.

And now, he was standing under her porch light, turning the key to her front door over and over between his fingers as he wondered at the implications of her offering. It was entirely possible that her suggestion that he return that evening was nothing more than a desire to give her statement as soon as possible so she could put the whole ordeal behind her. There was another possibility, however, that he wanted to entertain, though it scared him.

Could it be that she missed him as much as he'd been missing her? He wondered silently as he looked down at the key in his hand. Had he been too hasty to force a separation? _No_ , he squeezed his eyes shut. _She is recklessly irresponsible,_ his logical brain reminded him. _She has no respect for the law and thinks that rules don't apply to her…_ But, oh, how he missed her…

Taking a deep breath, he slipped the key into the deadbolt quietly, hoping not to disturb Miss Fisher's household if they were all asleep. As he entered the silent home, he hung his hat and long coat up in their customary spots and he felt a satisfying thrill at the idea that _those_ hooks were _his_. While he contemplated whether or not he should go into the parlor or up the staircase, his decision was made for him.

"Jack?" Phryne's tired voice carried into the foyer from the sitting room and he quickly acknowledged the summons.

"Yes, Miss Fisher," he said as he moved. "I'm sorry it's so late." He slipped through the open doors and found her lounging against the arm of her chaise, her eyes sleepy, but her smile genuine.

Shaking her head, she sat upright, moving slowly. "No apologies, Jack. I told you to come back, no matter the hour."

"How are you feeling?" He took his seat in the armchair closest to where she sat, holding his hand up to stop her from rising completely.

"A little better," she answered honestly. Sitting forward, she poured a cup of tea for her Inspector. "Mac diagnosed a mild concussion, explaining the brief confusion and fogginess following the blow to the back of my head. She provided headache powder, however, and insisted that I refrain from my typical nightcap, so I'm afraid we're only drinking tea tonight, Jack." She tried to smile, but faltered at her own anxiety at being with him again after what felt like a year of separation.

"Tea suits me just fine, Miss Fisher," he eyed her carefully, noting the way she closed her eyes a split second longer than normal before re-establishing eye contact. "I hope you haven't stayed awake just for my arrival. You might have called me at the station that you were tired… We could have met in the morning." His head tilted to the right in a characteristic manner of concern.

She acknowledged his observation, "I _am_ tired, but I wouldn't be able to sleep… Not yet..." Motioning to a tray of biscuits, she continued. "Dot likes to bake when she's upset. Please, help yourself, Jack."

Not one to often turn down food, especially biscuits, Jack's lips quirked into a near smile as his stomach growled. "Miss Williams is quite accomplished in the kitchen," he said as he selected a particularly large treat.

Barely able to hide the satisfaction that her Inspector seemed pleased with the offering, she licked her lips slowly, placing her mostly-melted ice pack onto the table and picking up her own tea cup. "Dot was afraid you'd taken a disliking to her culinary skills of late," she said nonchalantly as she sipped her beverage, wishing it was brandy instead.

Jack raised his eyes, guilt washing over him at the thought of how many lunch offers he'd turned down when his Constable's sweetheart delivered packed meals, enough to feed two.

"I appreciate anyone with the ability to cook, especially Miss Williams' offers…" He chose his words carefully, still wary of where he stood with his Lady Detective. "It was necessary for me to keep to myself these last weeks… I needed to…regroup, as it were." He tilted his chin and looked at her from beneath hooded eyes. "I was feeling…out of control." He licked his lips free of the crumbs from his cookie and placed the uneaten portion on his tea cup saucer. "I'm sorry I was so angry, Miss Fisher…" His eyes held hers, his affection barely hidden. "It was agonizing for me to think of you in that wreck, and I let that fear control my actions… And now, I'm afraid I've hurt you, as well."

"I'm sorry to have been the cause of your anger… And of your fears, Inspector…" She reached out, placing her hand on his forearm as she scooted forward on her cushion. "I've missed you, Jack… _So much_ ," her voice was quiet, vulnerable, and her forehead creased as she made the confession. She had promised herself, as she waited for his return, that she'd be open and honest when he arrived at her doorstep that night.

"I've missed you too, Phryne," his throat was tight, making his voice husky, gravelly. His wide hand covered hers, holding it against his shirt sleeve lightly. When he saw unshed tears in her frightened eyes threatening to break free, he moved easily from his chair over to the chaise, sitting close beside her without hesitation.

Phryne let herself fall against his chest, the heart-wrenching sob she'd been holding in since he walked out of her house all those weeks ago, finally breaking free as she clutched at his waistcoat in desperation. Unable to deny himself any longer, Jack wrapped his arms around her slight frame, cradling her trembling body in the circle of his arms. Hot tears seeped through the thin material of Jack's shirt, just below the collar, where she'd buried her face, seeking the comfort that she knew only he could provide for her. His hand moved up to the back of her neck, his fingers teasing the razor-short hair as he held her in place, murmuring against her temple that everything was going to be alright. They remained like that for several moments, barely swaying as Jack tried to soothe the woman who so often put up a brave face, but about whom he knew the truth - that she was fragile and scared more times than she liked to admit.

Regaining her composure, Phryne managed to control her tears, but remained pressed against the comfortingly strong shoulder of Jack Robinson, drinking in his warmth, his protection. Finally allowing her arms to loop lazily around his waist, she felt a swell of affection as, she was certain it was not her imagination, she felt the tender kisses that Jack dropped against her temple between his whispers of support.

Arching his neck so he could look down at her, Jack brought his hand from her neck and palmed her cheek. "What am I going to do with you, Miss Fisher…" It wasn't a question as much as it was a simple musing as he searched her face. Tracing her lower lip with his thumb, he searched for any sign of pain or discomfort at the bruise that had formed there. Finding none, he craned his neck and pressed a tender kiss to her mouth, maintaining the connection for a few breaths before pulling back again, hoping that he wasn't misreading the signals.

"When Bert called, saying you'd been attacked, I berated myself for being such a stubborn fool…"

"You're not a fool, Jack," she countered, though she didn't contradict his stubbornness. Phryne raised one hand and let her fingers map the contour of his chiseled jawline. "I thought I was outside City South's jurisdiction…So when I saw you there… I thought I was imagining things..."

"You were," he confirmed, "outside of my jurisdiction, that is." Taking a slow breath, he let one side of his lips tilt upward. "You could be on the other side of the continent, Miss Fisher, and I would still come for you…"

She closed her eyes at his admission, letting the smoothness of his deep voice wash over her.

"Though," his mouth quirked again, with more certainty. "I'd suggest you avoid the Bush… I understand that communication from there can be questionable…"

She allowed herself a genuine chuckle at that, appreciating his dry humor as always, as he interjected a lighthearted moment into an otherwise heavy conversation. "Thank you, Jack," she breathed against his throat as she lowered her head back to the front of his shoulder.

Only moments passed before their solitude was disturbed by Aunt Prudence, who made a sudden appearance wearing her nightdress and robe, having heard noises from her bedroom upstairs. After learning of her niece's attack, she had insisted on coming over to the St. Kilda home and staying through the night, to be on hand just in case her sister's daughter needed anything. She entered the parlor accompanied by an array of harrumphs and tsks.

"It is very late, Inspector," she grunted accusingly at the back of the Detective Inspector's head. "And _Phryne_ ," she chastised, "to be down here unchaperoned, in the dead of night, wearing your dressing gown!" She straightened her back and squared her shoulders. "It's indecent! That's what it is!" Without ceremony, she sat herself immediately behind Jack, taking up the bit of cushion still available on the chaise. "You should come back _tomorrow_... When it's _daylight_... It would prevent the neighbors from _gossiping_!"

She continued to lecture the pair, though they ignored her for the most part, clinging to one another as if their very lives depended on it. Humming in approval of the way Jack's hand cradled her neck, and that feel of his lips, which seemed to be dropping kisses of their own volition, Phryne nuzzled her nose against Jack's throat, bumping his Adam's Apple and causing him to swallow just a little thicker.

"Stay, Jack, please." Phryne asked, her need evident, the sheer desire that she felt was made transparent in a way that she hadn't let anyone see in years. "Just stay with me…"

"Of course," Jack simply nodded, pressing another kiss against her temple, smoothing her hair back gently, careful of her injury. He didn't know exactly what she needed from him, but whatever it was, he would not deny her. Speaking even softer than before, he assured her. "Whatever you need, Miss Fisher. Whatever you want..."

" _Phryne_!" Aunt Prudence abruptly stood, appalled at her niece's request in the face of such a harrowing day. "You need to _rest_! You should have been upstairs long ago, not waiting down here for the police inspector!"

"Aunt P," Phryne was frustrated with her aunt, but didn't lift her face from Jack's chest to address her. "Please go to bed."

"The Inspector should go home!" Prudence insisted with fire. "This is indecent. You need _sleep_!"

Jack pulled his head back and looked down at Phryne, watching her for his cue, willing to give in to her wishes, whatever they may have been.

Red rimmed eyes turned up and met his dark greys in a moment of consideration. She raised her palm to his chiseled jaw before dropping her hand to his, intertwining their fingers as she looked up at him. "I promised Mr. Butler I would lock up before retiring for the night." She licked her lips. "Would you mind doing that? Just checking the front and back doors again?"

"I don't mind at all." He raised her fingers to his lips. "I'll be right back." He pulled away and stood slowly, releasing her hand with a sense of reluctance.

Looking at her aunt as Jack made his way to the back of the house to check the kitchen door, Phryne inhaled slowly. "I wouldn't be able to sleep, Aunt P. Please understand…"

"Phryne, please be reasonable…" She plead with her headstrong, independent niece.

Jack re-entered the parlor and walked directly to his Lady Detective. "Whenever you're ready." He held his hand out to give her stability to stand. When she took it without hesitation, the Chief Inspector felt his breath hitch at how tired she really looked.

Taking a deep breath, Miss Fisher nodded and pulled herself to her feet, feeling weak and emotionally exhausted. "I just," she looked up at Jack with newly unshed tears. "I don't want to be alone, Jack. And... I've _missed_ you."

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he inhaled her sweet scent, knowing that either Mac or Dot, maybe both, helped her bathe between the time he brought her home and the time he returned. "I've missed you too, Phryne." His voice husky. "I'm sorry."

She didn't want apologies again, they'd been through that and she had forgiven him immediately. She wanted the comfort that she knew only he could give her. Shaking her head, she rested against his shoulder again. "I'm so tired, Jack."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned towards the double doors that would lead them from the parlor, both of them still ignoring Aunt P's unending lecture as they moved towards the staircase.

Stomping her slippered foot in a huff, Prudence followed them up the steps, still complaining that her niece's request of the Inspector was grossly inappropriate.

"Goodnight, Aunt P," Phryne muttered as she motioned Jack to the correct door.

"Good night, Mrs. Stanley," Jack bid the elderly woman with a tip of his head, maintaining exceedingly good manners in the face of the scandalous act of accompanying Miss Fisher into her boudoir. When he followed her in and closed the door, he let a crooked grin tweak his lips and slid the lock into place, making sure the click was just loud enough that Aunt Prudence would hear it.

Despite the stress that had taken over Phryne's entire being, a devilish smile broke free at Jack's action and she couldn't suppress the giggle that made it evident how happy he made her. Glad to see her smile, Jack chuckled himself and unlocked the door again; he didn't want to insinuate any disrespectful expectations.

~MFMM~

After letting the giggles evaporate into the ether, Phryne approached Jack as he stood just on the inside of the door, and she let herself lean against him once again. She hummed when his arms closed around her again without argument and she pressed her cheek to his chest, content to remain like that for several comfortable moments, just listening to his heartbeat. Phryne Fisher was not one who tended to show emotion, real emotion, to other people; typically she wore a public mask, pushing worries and concerns far down until she was by herself. With Jack, however, she knew her secrets were safe, that he would keep her confidences and help her cope with whatever obstacles lie ahead.

Jack was more than willing to hold his partner, welcoming her into his warmth and giving her a shoulder to cry on, both literally and metaphorically. He ran one wide hand along her spine, soothing her with his touch, until it settled low on her back, keeping her flush against his body. His other hand found its way to the nape of her neck once more, itching to thread its fingers into her hair, but reluctant to hurt her in any way.

Speaking against her head, where she rested just below his chin, he broke the silence.

"What did Dr. Macmillan say about treating your concussion? Are you allowed to sleep?"

"Yes," she answered quietly, enjoying the sensation of his breath tickling her scalp. Tipping her head back, she looked up at him, but didn't loosen her hold on his waist. "By the time she had gone for the evening, I had already taken a bath and she made sure to wash my hair carefully. She said the headache powder should help, but warned me that by tomorrow, I may feel the affects of my fall and other aspects of my assault, once I wake up. She prescribed a hot bath in the morning as well. She will be by about noon to see me." She closed her eyes, simply letting herself feel how it was to be protected in Jack's embrace. After a moment, she continued.

"In addition to the knot on my head, I have some bruising on my back and shoulder, some superficial abrasions on my torso, where he grabbed and tore my clothes…"

Jack looked down at Phryne's face, releasing only the hand that was on her neck while his other hand kept her close. He knuckled her chin gently, turning her face up a bit more and brushing his thumb gently across her lower lip. "And this..." he outlined the cut, and then trailed down to the bruise on her jaw. "This…"

"That was because I fought back."

"Oh, Phryne…" The residual anger that he'd been harboring, which had formed itself into a raging ball of fire and took residence in the pit of his gut, melted away into concern and love for the one woman who could simultaneously infuriate him with her recklessness and blatant disregard for the law, and fascinate him with her quick wit and intelligence.

"I broke every speed limit between the station and the car park when I got that call… I was so afraid that I wouldn't reach you in time, that you'd been fatally injured…" He tilted his head and searched her eyes. "I was scared that I would never get to hold you, to touch you…" His fingers traced the fine features of her face and he smiled softly when her eyelids fell closed at his touch. "I couldn't bear the idea of never telling you how much you mean to me, Phryne."

She let the tears fall, knowing he'd catch them, and she wasn't disappointed when the rough pad of his thumb swept tenderly against her skin, wiping away the salty trail.

Guiding him to the loveseat, she sat down and waited for him to take his place beside her. Once settled, she pulled her feet up beneath her bottom and leaned against him, breathing in the soothing scent of the coconut oil he used in his hair. The first time Phryne had smelled the distinct scent of coconut, she was surprised, and doubted her own senses. She had always pegged her favorite detective as a Brilliantine user, despite it's expense, given Jack's penchant for his tidy appearance. She had been proven incorrect, however, one day when she rummaged through the drawers of his office desk while battling her impatience after he had ejected her from the interview room. She was only looking for something to amuse herself, and if rifling through the neat drawers and reorganizing his files was a way to get back at being excluded from the interrogation, so be it… In his bottom drawer, she had been surprised to find a well-worn book of Chaucer, a tin of biscuits that looked peculiarly like Dot's and a small collection of grooming products… Distracted from her original intent of getting even for being asked to leave, she took a moment and examined her Inspector's personal items, gaining an intimate knowledge about him that she didn't have for any other man. She supposed that was when she first started to have deeper feelings for the gentle man who kept himself so private.

"I took a nap earlier," she said quietly. "Twice I tried…" She felt the angle of his chin change, and she knew he was listening to her. "Both times I woke startled…" She rolled her lips. "It doesn't make sense, really. It was only a brief assault… It's not like I was taken hostage…" She was trying to find sound reasoning for her inability to relax since her ordeal, but she couldn't. "There should be nothing keeping me from sleeping…" She waited several breaths, soaking in the sensation of his wide hand sweeping up and down her arm. "I kept seeing his face," she confessed meekly. "He keeps threatening to have his way with me…"

Jack squeezed her shoulders tighter, pulling her as close as possible to his side and kissed the top of her mussed brunette hair. "You won't need to worry about that tonight, Miss Fisher," he said, just as quietly. "I'll keep vigil over you. And I'll chase away the nightmares…"

Phryne lifted her face up and studied his kind features, feeling better after his return to her than she had earlier in the evening, with Dot and Mac. "Jack," she rested her hand on his chest, just above the "v" of his waistcoat collar. "I don't want you to keep vigil at my bedside… I want you to hold me. I want to feel your arms around me tonight as I sleep…"

"Phryne," his voice was husky, betraying the calm exterior he was trying to display. "It wouldn't be appropriate for us to share the bed…"

She rushed to place a finger over his mouth. "Just to sleep, Jack. Tonight, I'd just like to sleep in your embrace… I feel safe with you."

Pressing a kiss against the finger holding his lips closed, he inhaled slowly, unable to deny her, as always. With a slight nod, he accepted her proposal and returned the strong hug that she wrapped around him. "Just to sleep, Miss Fisher…"

~MFMM~

Handing him a pair of worn, but obviously cleaned and pressed pajamas, Phryne's cheeks blushed. "I asked Mr. Butler for a pair of men's night clothes, hoping that you would stay with me. It was too late for him to procure a set at the store, so this is one of his sets."

Jack lifted his chin and eyed her knowingly. "Your confidence astounds me, Miss Fisher."

She chuckled and motioned to the bathroom for him. "Mr. B also put out some fresh product for you."

He excused himself and closed the door so he could change. His observational eyes took in everything - the fancy french soaps and body oils, a collection of bath salts, towels and cloths far softer than his own ever were. The thing he noticed first and foremost, however, was the scent - the room smelled like Phryne and as he inhaled deeply, he couldn't help but smile.

When he re-entered the bedroom, Phryne was sitting in place on the bed, looking fresh faced and sweet. She watched him approach, smiling at the somewhat ill-fitting pajamas, but grateful that he was willing to appease her.

"I don't have to report to the station early tomorrow," he said as he circled the bed to the opposite side. "I'm taking most of the day off."

"What time do you need to be there?" She felt her body explode in heat as he slid between the covers.

Settling into the mattress with a happy sigh at the softness, he put one arm behind his head and looked at her. "Whenever you're ready to give your statement about tonight…"

"Oh," she slid down against her pillow, rolling on her side to face him. "I wasn't thinking… You had mentioned it, but I forgot."

"Not to worry," he assured her, extending his arm towards her in a wordless invitation offering his shoulder. Instantly, she scooted closer, curling herself into his side. When he wrapped his arm down around her body, he had to close his eyes and hope for the strength to control his natural bodily reactions to her proximity. "We can worry about that tomorrow, Phryne."

She nodded and draped one arm across his torso, lining herself up against his long body and tucking her leg between his thighs as if they'd been sleeping this way for years. Sighing softly, she sank into him, ready to fall asleep immediately. "I like the way you say my name," she uttered, her words sluggish with sleep. She hummed at his responsive chuckle and splayed her fingers wide across his pectoral muscle. "Good night, Jack."

"G'night, Phryne," he answered, pressing a kiss against her hair and pulling her impossibly closer as he felt her body go slack. "Good dreams," he whispered into her hair and moved his head back to the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he watched the light from the fireplace dancing across the surface until his eyes grew heavy, and he turned again to bury his nose into the dark halo that so often dominated his dreams. He didn't know what tomorrow was going to bring, but he did know that whatever happened at daybreak, he'd fight to do what was necessary to end up in this same place in the near future.

 **Postscript A/N**

 **I hope I managed to capture the characters in a recognizable manner. And I hope you enjoyed! Please take a moment and let me know your thoughts. I appreciate feedback, but I do ask that it be constructive and not destructive please!**

 **A note to my regular readers who have been with me through thick and thin, and know some of what I've been going through with my parents - my Mom has been moved into a Hospice House for comfort care. She's been diagnosed as terminal and now, sadly, it's just a matter of time… This was written over the course of a few days as I've been sitting with her.**

 **peace & love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N A big thank you to the readers who welcomed me to this fandom! After receiving such a warm reception, the JazzyMuse was certainly inspired to write a second chapter to "Stay With Me Tonight," and I dare say, there will be one more chapter… You'll see why. I hope you enjoy.**

 **I decided to post this story over on AO3 as well, so if you read both platforms, you will have found this chapter already.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with MFMM and mean no copyright infringement!**

Her leg bounced restlessly as she sat in her chaise, trying to relax and focus on reading, but failing miserably on both fronts. With an exaggerated huff, she slammed the cover closed and shoved the heavy tome from her thighs, pushing it onto the cushion beside her. Stalking into the dining room, she glared at the clock accusingly, wordlessly damning it for moving so slow, all the while knowing before she even consciously noted the time, that she was being unreasonably impatient. It was barely five o'clock... Sweeping her hair from where it tickled her cheek, she turned and started marching up the stairs, deciding that another steaming hot bath might be just what she needed to force her nerves to calm.

"Dot!?" She called out, her sing-song voice carrying easily through the house. "I'm going to take a bath… Please bring some tea."

"Yes, Miss!" Dot responded cheerfully as she exited the kitchen, already carrying a tray of tea and biscuits that she had proactively prepared when she saw her mistress pacing between the front rooms. Taking the stairs slowly, she allowed her employer a few minutes to get herself settled. After witnessing Miss Fisher's restlessness throughout the day, Dot suspected that the unflappable woman was having trouble maintaining her poise after her ordeal the previous evening.

Phryne flopped onto her vanity bench and stared at her reflection, noting the way her concealer didn't quite cover the bruise that had formed along her jawline. She ran her fingers along the outline, thinking about the way Jack's calloused index finger felt when he traced it the night before, as he carefully catalogued her injuries before holding her tenderly through the dark hours and coaxing her back to sleep when unseen demons threatened to interrupt her slumber. He had promised, after taking her official statement late that morning, that he would call in on her after he was finished at the station that evening. He hadn't been able to tell her exactly what time, but she knew, without a doubt, that five o'clock was definitely too early.

When Dot entered the room, Phryne turned in her seat and smiled softly at her companion, appreciative for her quiet support.

"I've asked Mr. Butler to prepare a roast for supper tonight, Dot. And his famous gratin."

"Yes, Miss," Dot nodded as she poured her mistress's tea. "I've baked a Lamington cake, and even tried a new recipe for Iced VoVos for your dessert. Mr. Butler said that you are expecting the Inspector to join you," she grinned, "and we all know the Inspector's fondness for biscuits..." She looked up from the tray, wordlessly asking if Miss Fisher was ready for her tea or if she wanted it to cool first.

"Thank you, Dot. That is very considerate of you." Phryne's smile was genuine and she approached the younger woman. "Would you like to invite Hugh for supper as well tonight? I suspect he will be stopping by on his way home, yes?"

Dot blushed. "Well, he did say that he would see me this evening, though he didn't specify what time…"

"Well, if you would like, you may call him and ask if he'd like to come for supper when he and the Inspector are through with their shift. We can all eat in the dining room together. I would invite Mr. Butler, too, though I know tonight is his lodge meeting..." She picked up her teacup and took a sip. "Aunt P has gone home," she rolled her eyes, muttering _thankfully_ under her breath. "There is no need to be formal this evening. Just a good meal to be shared with family…"

Dot couldn't hide the pleased expression at being directly referred to as being part of Miss Fisher's family, unconventional as it may be. It's true that she and Mr. B, as well as Bert and Cec, had always been loyal to her as if they were blood-related, but that was from the viewpoint of an employee looking up an employer. This, however, this was completely different and somewhat unexpected, for the Honorable Miss Fisher herself to say it so comfortably.

"Are you quite sure, Miss Phryne?" She tilted her head. "Hugh and I don't mind dining in the kitchen…"

"Pish-posh," she waved away the mere notion. "Unless you are opposed to dining with Jack and myself, I would very much enjoy having you there, Dot."

Stunned at the offer, especially after expecting her Miss and the Inspector to desire privacy, she curtsied. "Well, unless you need something else, Miss, I'll go downstairs and ring Hugh now…"

"Of course, Dot," She motioned for the girl to do what she needed to do. "Find out what time we can expect their arrival," she requested, pleased with herself that, while she had no ulterior motives, her suggestion had revealed one benefit in learning what time their shift would end that evening.

~MFMM~

This looks lovely, Dot," Miss Fisher whisked into the dining room, admiring the cheerful place settings her companion had selected for their informal dinner. Moving her eyes to the young woman, she nodded in approval of her companion's choice of attire. "And _you_! You look even lovelier!"

Smoothing her hands down her skirt, Dot smiled her thanks. "It's just a simple dress I made some time ago…"

"Well, your Constable will surely find you irresistible…"

"Oh, Miss," Dot worried, "I don't want that…"

"Of course you do, Dot. Besides, it's perfectly acceptable to dress to impress…" She winked with a smile, feeling remarkably better since her bath. "What time will our guests arrive, then?"

"Hugh said he would be here about seven o'clock. The Inspector had already left for the day by the time I phoned, so I'm afraid I don't know precisely when he will arrive. If Inspector Robinson has not arrived by the time Hugh does, we can take our meal in the kitchen if you'd prefer…"

"I would _prefer_ you eat in _here_ , like we arranged. If Jack is running late, he can simply join us when he arrives…" Her eyes flicked up to the clock, realizing that they had just over a half hour before Hugh, _and hopefully Jack_ , would arrive. "I'm going to sit in the parlor and listen to the gramophone. You're welcome to join me if you'd like, Dot."

Dot nodded. She quite enjoyed evenings she was able to spend in her employer's company as they listened to music and spoke freely about people, events or anything else that might come to mind. There was a time when the young woman would have been intimidated against openly sharing her thoughts and dreams with someone like her Miss Phryne, but since settling into her role and sharing a dwelling with the independently-minded woman, she was far more comfortable with her own beliefs and how they related to the world around them.

As Phryne sat on the chaise, her back somewhat tender after the hot water of the bath softened her injuries, she let her mind wander rather than trying focus on the book on which she was unable to concentrate earlier. She thought about the good DI Robinson and the changes she had noticed in herself since he came into her life. Of course, she was still a proud, modern woman with no intentions to change, but she had noticed how calm she felt when they spent time together. The previous evening, when she had been waiting anxiously for his return, she had refused to let herself over-think the importance of his presence in her day-to-day activities. They had successfully navigated the apologies they each felt compelled to fess up to the previous eve, when he let himself into her home long after the her household was asleep. She'd purposely avoided thinking about why, even after several offers had been extended to her over the previous weeks, she hadn't been the least bit inclined to take company with any of the suitors vying for her affections.

Now, however, as she sat in her front parlor listening to a recording of Hoagy Carmichael's "Stardust," she couldn't stop the thoughts from swirling around in her head. She _knew_ why she was disinclined to keep company with the men who'd come to call on her, and it should have been no surprise that she hadn't been interested in attending picture shows or theater performances or any other form of social interaction with any of the said gentleman.

 _None of them were Jack._

None of them were mentally stimulating, none were as noble or honorable as her dear Detective Inspector and none could compare in the overall package that was Jack Robinson. They were all, by no identifiable fault of their own, simply _lacking_.

Her pushy Aunt Prudence had even attempted to set her up on more than one evening once the older woman had realized that her niece'd apparently given the police officer the metaphorical boot, much to Phryne's never-ending frustration. The Lady Detective, however, stuck to her own agenda and made her own decisions. Now, after having slept in the safe, comforting embrace of her very own City South Chief Inspector, Phryne knew there was no where else she would want to be… at least not for the foreseeable future.

It was only after Dot had cleared her throat that Phryne realized her companion had been speaking to her, and she moved her eyes to the young lady quickly.

"I'm sorry, Dot?"

"I said," she tilted her head and rested her embroidery on her lap. "A penny for your thoughts, Miss?"

"Oh," Miss Fisher chuckled. "Nothing really… just…" she considered pushing her thoughts away completely and making up some sort of menial topic, but her employee was far more intuitive than she let on, and Phryne suspected Dot would see clear through her ruse. "Well… I was just thinking about the changes that have befallen upon our lives since meeting Jack… _and_ Hugh, of course," she motioned to Dot, not to omit the promising Constable's influence on Dot as well. "I was also thinking that I know very little about the gentlemen outside of our working relationship…" She shrugged one shoulder. "I mean, I know Hugh is an upstanding Officer eager to please his superiors and madly in love with you…"

"Miss Fisher!" Dot blushed furiously. " _Madly in Love_ sounds _so…scandalous,_ and… Well… I'm sure it's a gross exaggeration!"

"My dear, Dot," she leaned forward, "it's not even a tiny bit of an exaggeration… I have seen the way he looks at you. _Annnd…_ " she sat back again and smiled impishly. "I've seen that expression mirrored in your own eyes when you look at him!"

Dot opened her mouth to rebuke the point, but quickly closed it again, afraid of saying something that might land her in confession that week.

Phryne took pity on her young friend. "Don't worry, Dot," she whispered loudly, though no one else was in the house. "Your secret is safe with me…"

"Th-" she stuttered. "Thank you… I think?"

Miss Fisher laughed but settled back against her chaise again. "What was really in my mind, though, was the lack of knowledge I have about Jack, outside of his work…" her brow wrinkled. "I know a little of his past with Rosie, and I know that he enjoys reading, especially Shakespeare… I know he is an avid cyclist... but for all the insight he's gathered on me and my household, I've garnered very little about him…"

"Have you asked him, Miss? About the things that make you curious?"

"No," she replied quietly. "I suppose that makes me quite selfish…"

"Miss Fisher," Dot sat up straight, indignant reprimand in her voice. "There are a great many things in this world about which I know nothing, nor do I profess to understand. But there is one thing of which I am most certainly qualified to declare… and that is, that you are anything but selfish! You are loving and kind, and understanding and smart. You open your home to those in need without a second thought… you see to it that people who are far less fortunate than you are not forgotten, not discarded like yesterday's rubbish…." She licked her lips and continued quickly. "You have accepted mystery cases for which you _know_ you will not be compensated and you give those poor souls the same attention you give to wealthy, society members..." She shook her head at her mistress's misguided self-evaluation. "You may be modern, and unconventional… and perhaps everyone doesn't understand your ways… and you may well be the scariest driver I've ever known, but you are, _without a doubt_ , the farthest from selfish of anyone I know." She raised her chin and an eyebrow, meeting her mistress's blues without apology.

Phryne was stunned at Dot's outrage, shocked at the way she was viewed through the girl's point of view, naive or not. Before she could compose a retort, however, there was a distinctly familiar knock at the front door and Dorothy pushed to her feet to greet their guest.

"Good evening, Inspector," Dot welcomed him into the foyer. "Miss Fisher is just in the parlor. Can I take your coat?"

Jack smiled at her, handing over his hat, but taking care to hang his own coat. "Good evening Miss Williams. Thank you."

She curtsied politely, eyeing without mention, a small bouquet of purple flowers he held at his side, and motioned towards the double doors. "I'll just go check on dinner," she wanted to allow her employer some privacy before dinner and suspected that her beau would be knocking on the back entrance door soon, as he seemed more comfortable doing.

"Hello, Jack!" Phryne's greeting was cheerful as always, with no indication of her earlier contemplation revealed on her expression. She rose to her feet to greet him, welcoming him into the parlor.

"Good evening, Miss Fisher," he dipped his head once, holding her gaze as she approached, trying to figure out the best way to greet the woman he'd all but confessed his love for the previous night. Observing her slightly stiffened movements as she crossed the room, he let his eyes sweep down, then back up her body and accepted, with a single wide palm, her outstretched hand when she was close enough.

"Miss Fisher," he glanced down at the flowers with uncertainty, then back to her as he extended them ever so slightly. "I hope you won't consider me presumptuous, nor do I wish to imply anything untoward," he licked his lips. "I remember... when I was young, my mother had a condition that often left her suffering from head pains, and she often liked having lavender in the house… the scent eases the discomfort." Suddenly nervous, for no apparent reason, he kept talking. "While the source of your potential headache would differ from that of my mother's, I assume lavender would have the same mysterious healing benefits regardless of the cause…"

Phryne smiled broadly at the fragrant blooms, bundled together with a sheet of dampened newspaper. It was obvious that the uneven cuts were not from a professional florist, but she didn't recall the flower girl at the end of the block having lavender recently. Her eyes darted up in sudden realization.

"Did _you_ cut these flowers, Jack?" Her question came out more breathless than she intended, but she tilted her head in coy curiosity.

With a gentle, barely-there smile, he dipped his head in that way he often did, acknowledging her suspicion. "I grow lavender in my garden, Miss Fisher…"

" _Really_?" Her eyes lit up in excitement. "Yet _another_ mystery about Jack Robinson revealed!"

He chuckled, looking down at his feet briefly. "Hardly a mystery, Miss Fisher, just a simple hobby of mine…" He reached into his suit pocket and extracted an envelope. "I've also brought you some dried lavender buds. They make a nice cup of tea when mixed with black leaves, and if warmed in a small dish of oil, the aroma will permeate a room." He leaned forward slightly, eyeing her conspiratorially. "I, myself, enjoy the fragrance on occasion."

"Not a mystery, indeed!" She chided cheerfully as she looped her arm through his, drawing him further into the room.

"How are you feeling?" He questioned her quietly as they neared the chaise.

Phryne looked up into Jack's warm, caring eyes, squeezing his arm. She smiled at the way he tilted his head, in that way that she'd always adored, and she nodded. "I'm alright," she answered quietly. "Mac was correct," she tugged one hand, encouraging him to join her on the settee. "A hot bath was certainly in order today. I've had two and I'm _still_ feeling the effects of last night… But, fear not, Inspector," she raised her chin with more bravado than she necessarily felt. "It's nothing that I won't recover from."

"Well," his eyes skipped across her fair features. Giving her a rueful smile, he recognized false confidence when he saw it, but he'd never upset her by pointing it out. "I certainly hope so, Miss Fisher… I can't imagine how lonely Melbourne would be if you didn't recover…" He raised an eyebrow and continued quietly. "Especially for me…"

Phryne blushed. It was certainly a very uncharacteristic reaction for such a modern woman, but she would be lying if she said his response hadn't pleased her. Before she could form an answer if her own, there was a tap on the parlor door and her attention was pulled in that direction.

"Excuse me, Miss? Inspector?" Dot motioned towards the dining room. "Dinner is ready."

Phryne tilted her head. "Did Hugh arrive?" She ignored, for the moment, the way Jack turned his head at her query.

"Yes, Miss," Dot smiled, her cheeks blushing at the brief memory of the gentle way her beau kissed her when he arrived. "He came to the kitchen door, as he most often does when he comes to call on me."

Recognizing her companion's expression, Phryne stifled a grin. "Very good, Dot. The Inspector and I will join you directly." When Dot ducked from the room, she turned her attention back to Jack. "I invited Dot and Hugh to dine with us tonight," she stood slowly, watching for his reaction. "I hope you don't mind?"

Jack raised his eyebrows and joined her, motioning for her to lead the way from the parlor. "No. Of course not, Miss Fisher, it _is_ your home, after all."

She paused, turning to face Jack and placed her fingers lightly on his jacket lapel. Looking up, the Lady Detective searched his face for any sign of disappointment or disapproval. Finding nothing but sincere acceptance, she still felt the need to explain. "Mr. Butler has the evening off… And I wanted to invite Dot to dine with us so she wasn't eating by herself in the kitchen," she shrugged. "Naturally, I felt compelled to… Well, it was only right to include Hugh as well…"

His lips twitched, nearly smiling. "Your grand overtures of benevolence, such as when you hired on Miss Williams simply because she needed the work and you believed in her, or when you took in Jane because you saw her potential and couldn't bear to turn her over to welfare, those times have always astounded me, Miss Fisher. _But_ ," he tilted his head to the right, lifting his chin in a near indiscernible motion. "It's in these quiet gestures, these moments of pure kindness and openness, when you extend such invitations, even when society may frown upon inviting two lowly police officers to dine with you, that you leave me truly breathless."

"You are hardly a 'lowly officer' Jack. You are Chief Detective Inspector Jack Robinson! You are highly successful and a very well respected pillar of the community!"

"Nevertheless," he interrupted. "I know how police officers are viewed in comparison to society standards, and you still willingly open your home to us and make us feel welcome." His fingers itched to reach out and stroke the soft skin of her neck. "You amazes me. Every day."

Phryne looked up into his honest gaze, feeling stunned at his declaration. "If our locale was not so easily observed, or, perhaps, if the hour were later… I think I'd very likely kiss you right now, Jack…"

Keeping his volume just as low, his reply came in a deep rumble. "Were the circumstances ideal, Miss Fisher," his blue-gray eyes dipped to the rich ruby color of her lips and back up to her azures, "I would very much kiss you back."

The pair stood in the open doorway between the parlor and the foyer, breathlessly lost in each other, until Jack sensed movement in the opposite archway leading into the dining room. He suspected the motion was nothing more than Miss Williams backing away from the door in an attempt to escape notice when she saw that he and her employer were, in fact, on their way to the dining table. Tweaking an eyebrow, he barely motioned for her to continue walking. "Shall we, Miss Fisher?"

~MFMM~

Dinner was a huge success. Jack thoroughly enjoyed the extra large portion of gratin the Miss Williams had scooped onto his plate and he noticed, with a knowing smirk, the oversized slice of roast she had placed on Collins' platter. When the conversation started to wind down, Dot indicated that she would begin cleaning up. Miss Fisher heard Hugh offer to help before he suggested a walk down on the beach afterwards. With a subtle wave of her hand, Phryne stood quickly and addressed her Companion.

"Dot, you and Hugh run along and enjoy the rest of your evening. Go for your walk, or take in a picture show…. it's still early enough! The inspector and I can take care of cleaning up."

"Oh, no, Miss," she stared at her employer with alarm. "I couldn't ask either of you-" her words were cut off.

"You didn't ask, Dot!" To prove her point, Phryne relieved the younger woman of the pile of plates she was carrying. "I offered." She smiled, knowing that the young couple needed some time alone, and she was happy to send them away for just that. "We don't mind, really!" She had hoped that Jack wouldn't disagree with the suggestion, but if he did, she wouldn't ask him to clean up after himself as a guest on her home, she would simply take care of the mess on her own.

Before Dot could further object, however, Jack was already carrying serving platters and bowls past the women, not at all opposed to doing his share. Jack was quite fond of his Junior Constable, thinking of him as a younger brother in many ways, and he wanted the young man to have every opportunity to court the lovely Miss Williams whenever possible. Besides, encouraging the couple to step out for the night air would give him some time to spend with his Lady Detective, and maybe they could figure out exactly what they each wanted out of their unconventional friendship and relationship.

When Hugh followed his mentor to the kitchen, looking like a lost puppy, the young man set down a stack of utensils and linens, unsure of what to do next. He glanced nervously towards the direction from which they came, where he knew the women were still talking, then he looked back at Jack, his mouth falling slightly open. The ever-proper Detective Inspector seemed to have made himself right at home. removing his suit jacket to drape it over the back of a kitchen chair. .

Rolling his shirtsleeves up to this mid-forearms, Jack quirked an eyebrow at his young protege, biting back a grin at Hugh's bafflement.

"Constable?"

"Sir," Hugh rolled his lips between his teeth. "I feel like, after Miss Fisher was so gracious in inviting me to dinner, that perhaps Dot and I should stay…"

"Collins," Jack tilted his head, tugging and snapping his rolled cuffs in place. "Take Miss Williams for a walk... enjoy the evening…it's not like you have to get up early tomorrow, it's your day off. Go have fun… " He lifted his chin ever so slightly and eyed the young constable. "I assure you, if Miss Fisher didn't wish for you to enjoy your evening, she wouldn't have made the suggestion." He jerked his chin as he heard the echo of foot falls approaching the kitchen, indicating that Miss Fisher and Miss Williams were coming into the kitchen, and he dropped his volume to a loud whisper, biting back a smirk. "Star gazing down on the foreshore makes for a particularly romantic setting…"

"Sir!" Hugh's gasp nearly made him choke, the young man pulled at his collar nervously, but was unable to retort before his sweetheart was standing by his side. Coughing, he turned and looked down at her, unable to hide his blush. "Dot!"

"Hugh?" She studied Hugh as he cleared his throat of the cough he tried to stifle. "Are you alright?"

"Quite?" He intended his response to sound reassuring, but ended up squeaking it out with a questionable tone.

Phryne's eyes flicked to Jack and she was met with the picture of innocence. His eyebrows were raised in silent observation before he quickly turned his back to the trio and set about filling the basin with water so he could begin his self-appointed duty of washing the dinnerware. Shoo-ing the youngsters out of the house with a final insistence that she and Jack were more than capable of cleaning up, Phryne finally turned to Jack with her hands on her hips.

"What did you say to poor Hugh? He looked every shade of cherry I've ever seen."

Jack chuckled and glanced sideways at his hostess. "I merely made a suggestion that he may or may not decide to act upon with your dear Miss Williams."

"Jack!" She rushed forward, unable to imagine her straight-laced Detective Inspector making any inappropriate suggestions, but she couldn't help but wonder what had caused Hugh to blush so thoroughly.

He shook his head and laughed, knowing she was probably dying to hear how he advised Hugh. "You'll have to wait and see what Miss Williams tells you tomorrow of her evening…" He leaned her way a bit. "I am sure she tells you of her dates, Miss Fisher?"

Phryne picked up a towel and ignored the inspector's assumption with a harrumph, but it was clear she'd not succeed in weaseling out any information from the tight-lipped man. "Wouldn't you like to know…?"

He knew it was a rhetorical comeback and provided no answer, though he would be lying if he wasn't at least a _little_ bit curious about what his lady detective might discuss in private. He would never be so bold as to ask, and it was only a passing curiosity that would never be realized, but nevertheless, it was a fleeting thought through his ever-engaged mind.

A comfortable silence settled around them as they worked side-by-side, packaging leftovers and cleaning plates and utensils. Every now and again, she would hear the stunted strains of an unidentifiable song that Jack would start to hum before stopping, as if remembering that he was not alone. The ease she felt whenever she was with Jack was almost foreign to her, most of her interactions with men were so very different than her experience with Jack. The more time she spent at the side of her stoic inspector, the more she learned that he was far from dour, as many people assumed…. and the more she realized just how much she enjoyed being with him.

Selecting a platter from the drain, she began drying it absently as she finally noticed just how Jack had transformed himself between the dining room and the kitchen. She admired the play of his muscles and tendons beneath the layer of surprisingly tanned skin along his forearms as he dipped in and out of the soapy water, and she took another item from the clean drain before speaking again.

"You didn't need to wash, Jack," she eyed him sideways. "It's a dirtier job than drying, I would have done it, instead. After all, as you reminded me earlier, this is my house."

"Oh," he kept his expression neutral. "I don't mind getting dirty from time to time, Miss Fisher." He schooled his erupting smile at her intake of breath at the undertone of his reply. He paused and looked at her, once again, the picture of innocence. He noticed, with a swell of smug male pride, the pink flush that had spread across her cheeks and nose. "Better that you dry, anyhow, I don't know where anything goes…"

Pleased with his less-than-subtle sexual innuendo, she vowed to provide her good inspector ample opportunity to demonstrate to her just how dirty he could get… First, however, they had work to finish. "How perfectly logical of you, Jack," she laughed and stood beside him as he handed the next item to her. "Thank you for being willing to help," she said quietly. "I should not have made the assumption that you would... It's just... Dot has been so very attentive and helpful these past two days... Actually, these past several weeks..." She thought about her unbearable mood swings the girl had been subjected to, following her temporary separation from Jack. "I wanted to give her some time off… She deserves far more time to herself than she has, and I plan to change that, going forward."

Suspecting he had a good idea to what she was referring, he chose to address that on a different day. For now, he just wanted to assure her of his willingness to do what was needed.

"I don't mind helping, Phryne," he focused on his task, willing his body to ignore the close confines of their work space. "It's the least I can do, given all the wonderful meals you offer to me…"

She smiled, a genuine look of appreciation taking over her face as she looked at him. "I quite like sharing meals with you, you know… More than most anyone..."

"Is that so?" He was surprised at the admission, especially knowing how many gentlemen have dined at that same table, probably sat in his same chair. Her answer was nothing more than a nod and he accepted it as the simple truth. Wanting to offer something in return, he made a confession of his own. "Well, I must say, Miss Fisher, despite the fact that I have been dining alone for quite some time, therefore free to eat what I want when I want it, I can't remember enjoying many meals the way I have here, at Wardlow… with you."

As she turned and added another dry dish on the small stack she made, she warmed at the comment. "Thank you, Jack."

He stopped for a moment and looked at his pseudo-partner. "How are you feeling, Phryne?" He looked at her, _really looked at her,_ to get a read on her overall wellness.

Hesitating only briefly about how candid she could be, she quickly chastised herself at the unnecessary contemplation. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tired," she shrugged one shoulder, "and a little sore, because I am…"

"I'll go as soon as I've finished, Miss Fisher," he assumed that she would want to retire early and continue her recuperation in private. "In fact, why don't you let me do the rest of this… you go and take care of what you need to do, and i can see myself out."

"No," her retort was quick and firm. "Absolutely not, Jack! There is no need for you to leave so early… Unless you have other plans, that is, in which case I can take care of this and you can go…"

"There is no place else I'd rather be," he waited until her evasive gaze met his, wanting to clearly see her eyes. "I just don't want you to feel any obligation towards the evening, if you're tired, that's all."

Touching his shoulder, she offered him the towel on which to dry his hands. "Leave the rest for now, Jack. Let's go into the parlor and sit for a while."

"Miss Fisher," he glanced around the kitchen, noting that they were almost done. "Just let me—"

"Jack," her voice was soft, her tone unintentionally husky. "Please, it's quite alright. Join me…"

Unable to deny her, he dried his hands and rolled down his sleeves, intending to don his suit jacket again. Her pale fingers rested on said jacket where it hung over the back of the chair and she knew he would redress if he was staying. She had cause for him to keep the jacket off, however, so she deftly plucked it from the chair and draped it over her own arm, ignoring the stuttering objection.

"Come and sit with me, Jack," she called over her shoulder and she whisked from the small kitchen, knowing he would follow without further argument.

When he reached the archway for the sitting room, he was still smoothing his sleeves, self conscious of being improperly dressed in her presence. "Miss Fisher," he was about to reprimand her appropriation of his clothing, but when he saw her, sitting on the chaise with a box on her lap, her expression stopped his complaint.

Beckoning him to sit beside her, she looked at the package and back at him. "Jack," as he sat, she shifted partway to look at him better. "I did not realize it until this afternoon, when Mr. Butler pointed it out, that you had cushioned my injury with your suit coat…"

Surprised that Mr. B would make a point to draw attention to such an action, his brow wrinkled. "Phryne," he let down his guard enough to address her by her first name once again. "You suffered a head injury, and you were bleeding, I didn't have anything else to use, I'm sorry…"

"You're _sorry_?" She felt confused at the apology.

"I didn't have anything sterile, and my handkerchief could not absorb the amount of blood…"

"You should not be apologizing, Jack!" She rested a fingers on his hand, wishing it was, instead, his muscular forearm, but accepted what she could get. "Mac said you did a brilliant job at pillowing my injury for the transport here…" She licked her lips, angry at her own nervousness. Inhaling slowly, she slid the box from her lap to his. "This is for you, Jack." When he was slow to accept the unknown contents, she continued talking.

"Mr. B tried to launder your jacket and kerchief, but said that they were beyond repair, I'm afraid…"

"Oh," Jack now assumed she was giving him back his damaged clothing. "Not at all, Miss Fisher. I didn't expect Mr. Butler to go through the trouble of trying; I already suspected they were gone from this world…"

"Well, I asked him to see to it that you received a replacement, but when he contacted the clothier whose tag is on the inside pocket, he learned that the style was no longer available." She wondered when he had last treated himself to a new suit, and hoped that he would like the present. "So, I instructed Mr. B to procure you a new suit in its entirety, with jacket, waistcoat, and trousers, as well as a new shirt and tie…" She pointed to the box, waiting for his brain to catch up to his ears. "He sized it according to the damaged piece, though the length of the trousers may need to be adjusted, as he only had his own observations to go by…"

Jack's eyebrows rose in surprise, completely caught unawares. He hadn't given his ruined jacket a second thought, knowing that Phryne's head had required the protection at the time. He would do it again in a heartbeat, regardless of the difficulties he might face in purchasing another good-quality suit. Miss Fisher's offer, however, had rendered him speechless, and he continued to move his eyes warily between her and the box she had placed on his legs.

"Well?" She motioned to it impatiently. "Don't you want to open the package?"

"Miss Fisher, you needn't have worried about the suit. You have to focus on your own healing, not my sartorial concerns..."

"Nonsense, Jack," she waved off his retort. "If it weren't for my injury, your wardrobe would not have suffered a casualty…"

"Miss Fisher," he interrupted, unsure of how he felt about her buying him a suit.

Growing serious, Phryne's face lost all traces of humor or lightheartedness. She slid her hand up to his forearm and met his eyes. "Please, Jack. Let me do this for you."

Sensing that this was important to her, Jack thought for a moment and nodded. "Alright." He glanced down to where her hand rested on his arm and back up to her face, tracing her fine features. He opened the box lid and was momentarily speechless. The quality of the clothing staring back at him was far better than anything else he owned, and he couldn't help but clench his gut in concern at the potential price tag of such a gift. He knew his independently-wealthy colleague could afford it, he just felt uncomfortable accepting it.

"Phryne…"

She suspected, as soon as she saw his face, that he had doubts as to the appropriateness of the suit. When he choked out her first name, however, her suspicions were confirmed.

"Jack, if you hadn't have come when you did… if you had ignored the call as being outside of your jurisdiction, or refused to take the call all together as it piggybacked on our fall-out, of sorts… or if you hadn't been on duty last night…" She shook her head. "Things may have gone far worse. My own recovery may have been more complicated... but you _did_ come, no questions asked, and you did everything you could to help me… And while we have not had the time to recap your day yet, I have no doubts that you will continue to do whatever is within your power to see that justice is served…" She smiled softly. "Even if that justice was not in my best interests, I know your work ethic and I would never question your loyalty and devotion to the law."

When he saw unshed tears in her eyes, Jack knew that the spirit behind the offer was not borne of obligation, but of appreciation.

"You give me far more credit than I deserve, Miss Fisher," he swept away a lock of hair that was threatening to tickle her cheek. "My devotion to the law, to justice, while no less sincere than the day I took my first exam, has been somewhat… _skewed…_ altered, even, since the first day I met you." When a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, he caught it. "Had the call come from anyone else, I would have instructed Hugh to redirect it immediately… But when Albert called and said that you'd been attacked, and appeared to be unconscious," he licked his lips, remembering the dread that had taken over his entire being. "Well, I couldn't let anyone else see to it, no matter how good an investigator the East Side Station has on staff." He palmed her cheek, his thumb tracing the bruise that she had tried to cover with makeup. "If something had gone wrong, or if something had happened to you and I'd knowingly disregarded it… I might very well have had to give up my badge to seek retribution…"

"Jack," she whispered, not trusting her own voice as she felt yet another tear slip free. Leaning into his wide palm, she felt his calloused thumb chase away a third, then a fourth tear. She hated the feeling of vulnerability, the weakness that crying implied, though she would never doubt her safety with her detective inspector. He was not dishonest and deceitful like her father, nor was he abusive and controlling like René, both of whom used her vulnerabilities against her, causing her to build a distrust of serious commitment in general. He was a far better man than any she had ever invited into the most intimate realms of her life, but she couldn't find the words to tell him how she felt. Closing her eyes she tried to summon up the strength to say it, but before she even opened them again, there was a loud rap against her front door, impatient and rapid.

Swiping wildly at the tears, she met his startled eyes with worried blues of her own. With her emotions running amok through her system, her interrupted by the unknown at her door caused her breath to hitch and she pushed to her feet.

"Mr. Butler is off this evening." She smoothed her hands down her dress, working out the wrinkles that had formed as she sat beside Jack. "Would you excuse—" Loud knocks interrupted her words and she couldn't explain the anxiety that erupted in her chest.

Jack saw the emotion flash across her face and he stood as well. "Would you like me to see who it is?" He motioned towards the entryway. "I don't mind…"

"Please," she found herself nodding her assent before she realized, her nervousness unexpected and irrational. Perhaps she was feeling edgy at the fact that their privacy had been interrupted _yet again_ , and all she wanted was a few moments alone with him to be able to explore their feelings and discuss how to move forward.

Before she knew it, she heard Jack answering her door, as cool and collected as she'd ever heard, despite the fact that he was only wearing his waistcoat and shirtsleeves.

"Good evening." Jack greeted an unknown man who was poised to knock again, a large bouquet of flowers in his opposite hand.

"Well," the man gave him a once-over, his eyebrows rising to his hairline as he took in Jack's attire. "I guess Phryne is more relaxed with her staff here in Melbourne than she was previously… Never saw a butler in her employ looking so… casual…"

The stranger's American accent was unmistakable, and Jack found that he instantly disliked it, _and_ the stranger speaking it.

"Chief Detective Inspector Jack Robinson," he dipped his chin and blocked the entryway before the man could walk in. "And you are?"

"Ahh, you're the cop, huh?" The man extended his hand obnoxiously. "I guess Phryne really has gone and gotten herself into trouble, then?" When Jack didn't accept the outstretched hand, he shrugged and pulled his hand back. "Is she home?"

"And your name, please?" Jack was wary about the man, not liking his tone of voice, mannerisms or the fact that he was standing at the door wielding a couple dozen roses…

"Oh, yeah." The stranger straightened his tie. "I'm Robert Lawson. Just in from Philadelphia."

"Just a moment, please." Jack eyed the man up and down before stepping aside to allow entrance to the foyer. "Wait here."

He spun on his heel and turned into the parlor, finding Miss Fisher standing by the fireplace looking as though she was still regaining her composure.

"A gentleman named Robert Lawson is here… from Philadelphia…?"

Her mouth dropped in surprise and her expression was one of confusion. "Robert is in Australia?" Without waiting for Jack to respond, she moved forward, ducking around him and aiming for the open archway. "Robert?!" She exclaimed just as she reached the corridor, laughing with happiness at seeing her unexpected guest.

Jack sensed that Robert was more than just an acquaintance… No he was definitely more along the lines of an ' _old friend,'_ as Miss Fisher likes to put it, and he felt a stab of jealousy slash through his gut at the squeal that echoed in from the hall. Sighing, he berated himself that he had almost kissed her just moment earlier, and now had, once again, surely lost his chance. He turned and picked up his own discarded suit jacket from where she had laid it upon the armrest of the chaise and shrugged it on quickly. Just as he was buttoning and straightening himself, the Lady of the House came sashaying into the room, now holding the oversized bouquet of professionally cut flowers, her hand linked through the stranger's arm.

"Jack! Let me introduce you to an old friend," she smiled, not sensing Jack's discomfort. "Robert Lawson, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States… Robert, this is Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of the Victoria Police Constabulary." She smiled, looking between the men, only just realizing that Jack was once again wearing his jacket and looking dour and serious.

"Yes," he said, moving his eyes between the pair before settling back on Phryne. "We just met... At the door… When I answered it for you, Miss Fisher."

Robert most certainly picked up on an edge of tension, but was unsure if he had interrupted business or pleasure. Trying to stay neutral, he nodded again. "Sorry about the assumption that you were hired help, pal." He once again extended his hand, wondering if the cop would accept the shake this time. "Who'd've thought our Phryne would have her very own police brigade protecting her, huh?"

Reluctantly, Jack shook his hand, ensuring his grip was just as firm as the stranger's, but did not acknowledge the question.

"Robert," Phryne dislodged her hand from the crook of his arm and moved to stand between the men, slightly closer to Jack. "What are you doing here? When did you get into Melbourne?"

"Just arrived yesterday, actually," he said, his full attention on the raven haired beauty standing opposite him. "I've been helping my sister to move… She just accepted a position at the women's hospital and when I carried her texts up to her office today, I bumped into Mrs. Stanley." His eyes flicked to the flowers. "She told me that you'd had a terrible fright yesterday…. encouraged me to pop in and see you. She said you could probably use the company." He smiled, his eyes telling of a history they shared as more than mere acquaintances. "Hope I, uh, didn't interrupt anything…?" He nodded sideways, as if he was indicating to Jack while not really acknowledging that he was still in the room.

"Oh," Phryne was pretty certain that Robert had intentions other than simply 'popping in' to call on her and see to her well being… Their relationship had once been simultaneously casual and intense, but she hadn't seen him for years and she certainly was not interested in reigniting any old emotions at this time. "We have just finished dinner and were getting ready to share a night cap, and perhaps few games of droughts," she said, measuring her words carefully. Before she could clarify anything, Robert cleared his throat.

"Well," he leaned forward suggestively, still ignoring Jack's presence, and spoke in a fake-whisper. "If you'd like some company that's _bound_ to be more exciting than a _police guard and checkers_ , I'm more than able, _and definitely willing,_ to share your nightcap and keep watch against any bogeymen… If the joker who tried to get fresh with you last night shows his ugly mug, I'll take care of him for you…" He winked exaggeratingly. "No cop presence needed…"

Jack clenched his jaw, but was reluctant to insult the American, not knowing Miss Fisher's connection with or interest in he man. He inhaled sharply and tilted his head to face her.

"Miss Fisher," his voice was low, husky. "If you would prefer to spend the evening with your," he paused for a breath, " _old friend_ , I can take my leave. I wouldn't want to interfere with an opportunity for you to," he tilted his head further, just barely, in the way he did when trying to analyze evidence. " _Catch up_."

"That sounds perfect, Officer," Robert chirped up uninvited. "I'm sure Phryne, here, has your number if there is an emergency…"

Nearly panicking at the idea that Jack thought she would choose to spend time with Robert over him, Phryne shook her head vehemently and spoke to Jack directly, now ignoring the newcomer.

"No, Jack." She rested her hand on his lapel, regretting that he'd felt the need to re-don his suit jacket as her fingers trailed down the length of the collar. She then looked back at Robert. "It's quite a surprise that you are here in Australia, Robert, and it's nice to see you, but Jack and I are enjoying an evening in. I'm sorry if Aunt P indicated otherwise, but she does not keep current with my social calendar, try as she might." She squared her shoulders and stood more to Jack's side rather than between them. "Perhaps we can meet for tea one day, catch up on our news."

Robert's brow wrinkled and he took in the way she was standing, his confusion evident. "Phryne, I wonder if I could have a word alone?"

"Whatever for?" She questioned his reluctance to just leave, wondering what else her meddlesome aunt may have told him.

"It's just…" His eyes flicked to Jack, to a small, unprofessionally-cut bouquet of lavender, and back to Phryne. "Please, just a few minutes?"

Jack inhaled slowly and decided to do the gentlemanly thing. "I'll just step out for a few minutes, then…" He turned and marched out door, a sour taste in his mouth as vile as the burn in his gut.

Phryne watched Jack's retreating back as he moved towards the kitchen, and she felt her heart wrench. When she looked back at Robert, a look of reprimand took over her normally pleasant expression.

"Robert, you can't just show up here, unexpected and unannounced, after having virtually zero contact for over two years! Don't get me wrong, I meant it when I said it's nice to see you, but I cannot drop everything just because you popped in!" When she noticed that he was about to interrupt, her hands went to her hips. "And even worse, you've insulted my friend and guest! Why would you do that?"

Robert stepped closer. "Your Aunt Prudence is quite concerned about your… state of mind, Phryne, and about the company you're keeping. She warned me that you had been threatened last night while working, and that you were probably sentenced to an evening in the presence of a terribly stoic and humorless detective." He shrugged. "I gotta admit, he does seem a bit on the dull-end of the spectrum… Definitely not your standard type…"

Gritting her teeth in anger at his assumption, she fisted her hands at her sides. "Robert, you have clearly been led astray by my aunt's unwelcome interference, actions about which she will be confronted. I was more than threatened last night, I was attacked. There are no bogeymen for you to watch for, because Jack has already arrested the offender and seeing to it that he pays for his violations. Your appalling behavior, however, towards someone who has been invited into my home is unforgivable. You have no right to come into my home uninvited and attempt to control how my evening will play out… You lost that privilege two years ago when you, without even a backwards glance or the courtesy of a postcard, walked out of my life on a whim to follow another woman halfway around the world, even though she asked you not to…"

Robert suspected he would have a tough time winning his way back into Phryne Fisher's life after doing her wrong like he'd done, but after bumping into Mrs. Stanley earlier that day, he was certain he would have a leg up on any potential competition. The older woman had told him about her niece's habit of spending time with a public servant, _a policeman_ , when she should be accepting invitations for social events and enjoying the attentions of _appropriate_ suitors of similar social standings… After all, Phryne Fisher was no young socialite and if she planned to _ever_ marry, she would have to start welcoming and seriously entertaining the advances of suitable gentlemen.

"Phryne," he reached for her and was surprised when she pulled her hand away. "I know that my actions in the past may have been less than noble," he reached again, only to be expertly evaded a second time. "But think about how well we got on in the past… _And_ I'm able to stay here in Australia… You're of the age that you really need to think about settling down, and with nothing to pull me back to the States-"

"Robert, you should go." She moved towards the double doors that would take them back out to the foyer. "Give my best to your sister, I hope her residency at the hospital is successful."

"Phryne-"

She opened the front door and eyed him without remorse. "Good night, Robert."

Stepping towards the door, he paused before her and met the blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for months and months after leaving her behind. "I'll check in with you next week. Perhaps we can meet, as you suggested earlier…"

"I've changed my mind, Robert. I don't think I would enjoy taking tea with you, after all." Before he could interject again, she motioned out the open door. "Please, I'd like to get back to my guest."

~MFMM~

Closing the door after finally being rid of the unwelcome intrusion, Phryne leaned against the stained glass sidelight windows, catching her breath and trying to calm her racing heart. Moving quickly, she stalked back to the kitchen, expecting to find Jack sitting at the table, but instead, found the room void of occupancy.

"Jack?" She called out, wondering if he had wandered back into the parlor through the side entrance, but found that corridor vacant, as well. "Inspector?" She increased her volume. _Perhaps he is in the lavatory_ , she pondered. The restroom door, however, was ajar and the room beyond was dark. Spinning in place, she questioned where else he may have gone when he took his leave.

"Jack!?" Moving back to the front door, she whipped it open, glancing up and down the sidewalk, hoping against hope he wouldn't be walking away. Not finding him, she returned to the kitchen and pulled open the back door, releasing the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. With a gentle smile tugging the corners of her lips, she abandoned the door and approached her Detective Inspector, speaking quietly. "There you are…"

He was lounging in a garden chair, his head resting against the back support as he looked up at the sky. When he heard her exit the house, he closed his eyes briefly, wondering if she was going to ask him to call it a night, or not. Opening them again, he rolled his head and watched her approach.

"Miss Fisher…" When she closed the distance, he sat forward, studying her.

"I wondered if you'd left…" She confessed her concern when she stopped at his side, her fingers itching to reach out to him, but restrained, unsure if her touch would be welcome.

"Did you want me to leave…?" Jack hated the idea of leaving, but if she asked him to, he would. He might be reserved and quiet, projecting the outward image of a perfect gentleman, but he was still a man, and he knew full well what Robert Lawson wanted when he arrived at Miss Fisher's doorstep.

"No," she breathed, shaking her head and stepping even closer. Taking a bold move, she started to lower herself to the foot rest part of the seat, barely giving Jack the chance to move his legs before she sat. When she looked up, meeting his eyes, her breath caught in her throat in reaction to the depths of emotion she found staring back at her.

Swallowing thickly, he held her gaze as he dropped his feet to the sides of the lounge chair, giving her room to perch. His palms yearned to reach for her waist, to pull her closer, but he didn't dare, not knowing her intentions or feelings after her surprise visitor. With his heart pounding, he waited, ready to take his cue from her actions. When, from the corner of his eye, he saw her hand shift in his direction, he dared to breathe again.

"Jack, I'm sorry we were interrupted…" Her pale fingers came to rest on the sleeve of his jacket, toying with the hem cautiously. "Most importantly, I am sorry for the terrible things that Robert said about you…"

"You owe me no apology, Miss Fisher. I can't very well hold you responsible for words spoken by an old friend…" He dared to turn his palm up, wondering if her fingers would find their way from his jacket to his hand. He was not disappointed when he felt her cool skin against his, and he wrapped her fingers in his. "Though, I _do_ hope that if you ever find my company to be mundane or otherwise disagreeable, that you'll tell me… And likewise, if you would rather spend an evening with someone else, that you'd be forthcoming enough to be open with me..."

"Jack," she tilted her head and smiled honestly. "I can't imagine a time when I'd find you less than fascinating and enchanting." When he started to roll his eyes, she raised her free hand up to palm his jaw, holding his head still. "I mean that, sincerely, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson." Swiping her thumb along his jaw, her eyes followed its movement. "And... as far as wanting to spend time with anyone… It's you I'm sitting with, Jack…"

His gray eyes studied her, taking in her posture, her words, and her willingness to reach out to him in more than just the physical sense. Making a quick decision, he reached his free hand up and cradled the back of her head, holding her steady while he closed the final distance separating them and covered her mouth with his.

Her lips tasted sweet, like the dessert they'd shared, and they were soft, much softer than he remembered from the all-too-brief stolen kiss taken under the guise of offering protection while distracting her. Her sigh, which he swallowed with his own, was music to his ears as he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue along the fine line where hers met, asking for permission. When she acquiesced to his request, he tilted their heads in tandem to line up perfectly as their tongues met for the first time and he groaned at the sensation and the reality of what was happening.

Releasing her hand, Jack slid his calloused palm around her waist, tugging her towards his torso and fell against the backrest of his seat, letting her settle against his chest without shame or apology. He was grateful that the only illumination in the backyard was the low-sitting moon and he hummed in approval when her fingers slid around the back of his neck as she kissed him eagerly in return.

They remained like that for several minutes, but it could have been hours for as delirious as Phryne felt at the sensation of Jack's lips commanding hers. The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher had been kissed by countless men in her life - she'd never been shy about her modern sensibilities. _However_ , the Lady Detective couldn't deny the fact that she had never been so overwhelmed by someone's affections as she was by Jack's. The hand that was tunnelled into her hair tugged deliciously, controlling her movements and she moaned at the way he sent chills down her spine.

The quiet of night was shattered by a barking dog, one with which Phryne was grudgingly familiar, as her neighbor let their pet out into the garden bordering hers. She pulled back, breaking their kiss just enough to be able to meet Jack's eyes. Both of them panting, their breaths mingling, she searched his shadowed face, looking for any hesitation or regret, but thankfully found none. Flicking her eyes down to his lips before meeting his darkened gaze again, she traced her fingertips along his cheekbone.

"Jack," she licked her lips and rubbed his nose with hers, shivering at the level of comfort she felt laying against him. "Tell me this isn't a dream from which I will cruelly wake in another three minutes…"

"If this is but a dream, do not wake me from my slumber..." He eyed her lips, plump and bee-sting from his kisses.

Phryne revelled in the deep rumble of his voice as it rattled against her own chest. Swallowing nervously, she tilted her head, exposing her throat to his roaming fingers as they stroked her skin tenderly. "What happens next, Jack?" She whispered softly, for the first time in her life she was uncertain how to move forward, unclear on what was expected from her… from them.

"Next, Miss Fisher," He craned his head and nuzzled the tender skin beneath her ear, causing goosebumps to spread as he nibbled and licked before speaking against her. "Depends heavily on what _you_ want…"

"What I want?" She didn't understand his meaning… She thought she was making it pretty clear what she wanted simply by pressing against the firm planes of his chest… "I don't…"

"What do _you_ want, Phryne?" He interrupted her request for clarification with a point blank question. "What do you want from me?"

Simultaneously terrified and electrified, her mind short-circuited and she stared at him, her mouth gaping open as she still fought to steady her breathing. "What… what do _you_ want, Jack?" She countered his question without answering.

"I want you," he said immediately, without even a hint of hesitation. "I want all of you, Phryne… I want your mornings, your evenings, and your nights." He watched for any signs of panic, ready to give her the space he suspected she would request. "I want our disagreements, our challenges, our resolutions… And I want to know when you are happy or sad or scared or anything else you might be…"

"I," she felt her heart pounding inside her rib cage so hard she feared it would break free. "I've never done this before, Jack… I don't know if I can…"

"Then tell me what you want, Phryne Fisher…" He spoke against her lips as he dropped a quick kiss upon them again, seemingly unable to stop.

Realizing how important this moment was, and the pertinence of utter honesty, she considered his question silently. Letting her fingertips learn the sharp angles of his face, she smiled softly.

"I want to know what it is like to wake up safe in your arms everyday, not just on the mornings after my sleep is plagued with nightmares…. I want to know that you are happy and healthy… and that you're careful at work on the days I wouldn't normally see you because we don't have a case…" She grew quiet. "I want to know your body the same way that you seem to innately know mine. And I want to know what makes you thrum and shake with desire…"

As Jack listened to Phryne's desires, he felt his heart expanding, nearing the point of explosion.

"But Jack," she skidded to a halt, afraid of her own tendencies. "I have not allowed myself to be exclusive since… René…"

"I don't want to own you, Phryne. And I would never bring you harm, on that you have my solemn vow…". He cupped her cheek, his wide hand covering nearly half of her head. "And I am not asking you to change… I don't expect that I'll ever be enough to fulfill your needs… but," he inhaled slowly, knowing that what he was about to give her permission to do would cut him to the core, but if it meant having at least a little part of her, he was willing to sacrifice himself… After all, it's not like he, a divorced police inspector fast approaching forty had a lot of women knocking down his door… "But I would ask that if you grow tired of me entirely, just be open about it and tell me…"

His self doubt appalled her, and her expression made that perfectly clear. "How could you ever think that you would not be enough for me, Jack? It is I who would most likely fall short…. I hold no disillusions that I am an easy woman to be with, but I can promise you this, Jack." She sat back, so she would be able to clearly see into his eyes without straining to focus in too close of proximity. "If you were to devote yourself to me, Detective, I would most certainly be yours, and yours alone…"

Knowing full well that Phryne Fisher had zero desire to 'belong' to any man, but hearing her pledge her loyalty and fidelity to him, Jack felt like he'd been offered a new lease on life. Kissing her again, he let his tongue explore her mouth, memorizing every sound and motion she made in reaction to his gentle demand. Pulling back after several minutes, he palmed her cheek.

"In that case, Miss Fisher, I am yours. I have been for quite some time… And to answer your question," he tugged her ever so slightly tighter against his body. "What happens next is that I'm going to take you upstairs to your lovely boudoir and I'm going to spend the rest of the evening, well into morning, showing you just how much you mean to me." He craned his neck and nuzzled the soft skin beneath her ear, breathing his promises against the sweet silk. "I'm going to take you up to your room, Phryne, and, after I have bared your flesh to my eyes, I'm going to learn every single inch of your body."

Phryne shivered at his promise. His husky voice combined with the soft breath against her neck caused chills to run up her spine, radiating outward through her limbs, and she couldn't stop herself from trembling. "Jack…" she sighed, letting her head fall backwards to expose her throat to his talented mouth.

"And then…" he nipped at her playfully. "I'm going to taste you… I want your flavor to coat my tongue, your scent to fill my lungs" He left a trail of wet kisses along her jawline until he met her mouth, and continued speaking against her parted lips. "And while my tongue is occupied studying your flavor, committing it to memory, my fingers will embark on an exploration of their own, probing, and driving you towards the precipice, making you forget every other man who's ever been privileged enough to touch you."

She moaned into his mouth. His voice, that smooth, provocative bedroom voice was doing things to her body beyond description. Phryne Fisher was no stranger to seduction, but she couldn't remember anyone doing to her the things that Jack was doing, and his sultry timbre was, no doubt, a large contributor to her current state.

She gripped his shoulders, her wiry fingers digging into his multiple layers formed by his three piece suit. She had always suspected beneath his buttoned-up, serious exterior, a deeply passionate man lay in waiting. _This_ , however, this sultry, erotically tempting man was proving even her wildest dreams about him to have been timid and lacking in imagination. She knew Jack was no blushing virgin, but he'd only ever shown her glimpses of his flirty nature and his smouldering gazes. What she was quickly seeing, however, was a completely different, and completely delicious, side of her partner in crime.

Switching to the opposite side of her neck, Jack worked up to her other ear, speaking softly once again, his smooth tone betraying his surging desire to simply pick her up and carry her upstairs to begin the rest of their night… "And after my mouth and my fingers have been thoroughly introduced to your most intimate parts, _Miss Fisher_ ," he licked her lobe and hummed. "I'm going to _finally_ act on a variety of _very naughty_ fantasies which have plagued me for well over a year, now…"

Thrusting her fingers into his hair, she pulled his head to her mouth, kissing him with abandon while swallowing his groan. She wondered what had taken them so long to get to this point, and she silently berated herself for not pushing the matter sooner. Now that she had him where she wanted him, though, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher was going to bestow upon Chief Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, all sorts of _dis-honorable_ acts.

A car horn honking in the distance brought them back to their surroundings with a start and Jack pulled back, sucking on her bottom lip as he moved. Brushing her nose against his, Phryne marveled at the thick locks of curls that she'd managed to dishevel, tugging just enough to cause his piercing eyes to meet hers.

"Let's go inside, Jack…" She nipped again, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I believe you have some promises to make good on…"

 **Postscript A/N: So I think it's fair to say that the next installment will definitely change the rating of this little journey… So, while the naughty little JazzyMuse hasn't started on that just yet, I don't think it will be long before continue typing again.**

 **On a different note, I can't thank you all enough for the lovely messages and DMs wishing my family well after you read my previous Author's Note about my mom being in Hospice. She passed away just one day before her and my dad's 58th wedding anniversary. It's been a difficult month, but I've tried to keep my mind occupied in helping to edit a friend's fic as well as spending a bit of time here and there writing this little follow-up. I've been a bit out of sorts and absent from Twitter of late, but I hope to be back to normal soon. Thanks again, sending hugs.**

 **peace & love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hi there. Welcome back. Thanks for your patience. I am still trying to get my JazzyMuse mojo back, I'm having trouble pulling myself out of this funk, but I'm trying.**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer. I still own nothing. Just this story as it wove itself from my brain.**

Pushing the door closed, Jack leaned against it and tugged Phryne to him, spanning his hands wide around her waist, long fingers splaying high up her ribcage before moving up to cradle her jaw carefully. Craning his head, Jack covered her lips with his, moving confidently, encouraged by her enthusiastic response and committed to memory the taste and contours of her mouth.

Never one to stand idly by, Phryne busied herself by running her hands up Jack's chest, tucking her fingers beneath his jacket and pushing it from his shoulders. With his arms raised to her face, however, his outer armour wasn't going anywhere. So, instead of focusing on the temporary obstacle, she set her attentions to unbuttoning his waistcoat and tugging at his impeccably knotted tie.

When Jack sensed her growing impatience, he hummed into the kiss and grabbed her eager fingers where they'd proceeded to unbuttoning his shirt. When she growled at her now-immobilized hands, he chuckled.

" _Patience_ , Miss Fisher..." He nuzzled against her neck with a smile, and lowered their arms down to their sides.

"I've been the very embodiment of patience for _far_ too many months, _Inspector_ ," she smarted back, grinning at their easy rapport despite her desperation to feel more of him. She tilted her head and looked up at Jack, ready to chastise him with a witty quip, but found herself breathless when she saw how dark his eyes had grown.

"Phryne," his voice had dropped by an octave, his timbre husky and hungry. "We only get this once…"

Her brow wrinkled, instantly misunderstanding his meaning. " _Once_...?"

Jack amended his declaration with a quick eye-roll. "We only get one _first night_ , Phryne… Only one first time..."

"Well, of course," she agreed. "But we can always take our time, Jack… We've waited so long already." She untangled her fingers from his, returning to her previous task of unbuttoning his carefully layered clothing.

Jack shook his head and smiled softly. "Please, Miss Fisher," he started to move her backwards towards the bed, feeling the control over his baser instincts unraveling... _Quickly_. "Let me have this… _Later_ , you can run the show and have your wicked way with me…" He smirked and caught the glint in her eye at his promise. Growing serious again, he brushed her nose with his. "I just… I want to learn you, to learn all about you..." Employing his keen detecting skills, he could sense she was close to caving to his desires - he just had to sweeten the pot a little more. "Downstairs, I made a promise… To let my fingers bring you pleasure… To taste you on my tongue…" When she gasped, he kept talking, his voice seductive, and wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her against his greedy body. "And, once I'm certain that you've toppled over at _least_ two precipices, I want to bury myself deep inside of your body, to move in you, to discover and memorize your deepest secrets…"

 _His voice_ , the quiet, familiar timbre had always tugged at something deep inside the Honorable Miss Fisher, speaking to her subconscious on an ancient level that she didn't even recognize, but knew undoubtedly that no other man had ever reached. Her reaction to the mere sound of his words, no matter the subject, was nothing short of Pavlovian and her brain temporarily short circuited. The only coherent thought poking through the fog as she looked helplessly into his eyes, was a surprised curiosity at the fact that she hadn't already spontaneously combusted in a mind-numbing climax. Phryne found herself drowning in the depths of his blue-grays, so dark, nearly charcoal, and she simply nodded her assent, granting him the permission he sought and willingly submitting to his whim.

Before she even realized what was happening, Jack had shuffled them closer to the bed, his torso pressing against her body possessively. When the backs of her calves met the edge of the mattress, he ran his wide palms up her arms, over her shoulders and finally inward, following the elegant line of her collarbones, until his fingers met in the middle.

Phryne's brain barely processed their progression. Jack's actions were exact; the gentle, precise slide of his touch done with such surprising experience that she found herself moaning into his mouth. As his lips moved over hers, his clever fingers quickly located the buttons of her blouse and blindly unfastened them. Dragging his mouth away, he left a trail of wet, open kisses along her jawline and down her neck, pushing the silky material from her shoulders as he moved.

Phryne shivered, his mouth was leaving fire in its wake. When she felt Jack's sharp intake of breath, goose flesh erupted across her skin and an uncharacteristic whimper fell from her lips as she let her head loll back, exposing the long column of her throat to his mercy.

"So beautiful," Jack murmured, scraping his teeth up until he found her earlobe, where he praised her before continuing his newest favorite pastime of nuzzling her sweet skin. "You're breathtaking, Phryne…"

"Jack," she breathed, not trusting her full voice in her current state of uncharted arousal. Miss Fisher tucked her arms around his waist, burrowing beneath the hemline of his starched white shirt to span her fingers wide across his lower back.

Again, not certain how it happened, the Lady Detective found herself bodily manipulated to Jack's will and she was suddenly standing with her back against his chest as his arms, led by those delightfully strong hands and long fingers, circled her body and settled on the waistline of her flowing skirts. As he continued his self-assigned task of disrobing her, she allowed herself a few imaginative moments as her bottom pushed back against his groin, which told her, in no uncertain terms, just how much he wanted her.

Jack growled at the friction when she arched her back, and he nipped a little harder at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Without further preamble, he pulled away from her body just enough to regain the necessary control he'd need in order to successfully complete his exploratory journey of her body.

Following the graceful line of her spine, he left a smattering of kisses down the length of her back. Ever so slowly, he squatted, pulling her skirts down as he moved. When he reached her ankles, he carefully helped her out of her shoes before guiding her to step from the circle of fabric created by the layers of material that had previously been hiding her body from his sight.

From his place, kneeling on the floor, he looked up at the wonderfully pale expanse of porcelain skin on display for him, and he placed a gentle kiss on each of her back dimples before wordlessly encouraging her to turn in place.

When she did, his dark gaze swept over her body deliberately, as if he were worshiping her, which in a way, he supposed he was… Locking eyes, he noted how her pupils were blown wide, practically pulsating in time with her heavy breaths. Pressing a soft, intimate kiss to her belly button, his hands gripped her hips to hold her in place when he turned his head to rub his cheek against the softness of her feminine belly. He let her push his waistcoat and shirt from his shoulders, releasing his hold just long enough to disentangle his arms from the sleeves and leaving his braces dangling from his trousers.

It had been a while since Jack Robinson took his time with a woman for the sheer purpose of bringing her pleasure, but on the off-chance that things went sour between them by morning, he was determined to make the most of their time together and to show her how much he cared. With that in mind, the Detective Inspector suppressed his own urges and brought to the forefront of his mind, all the things that he desired for her, for his partner, for his Miss Fisher.

Phryne rested one hand on Jack's head, allowing the other to slip down to the nape of his neck so she could toy with the short hairs of his freshly-trimmed cut. _Yes, she had noticed that his hair had been neatly trimmed between the time he'd bid her farewell after taking her official statement and returning that evening bearing a bouquet of home grown flowers. No wonder he left the station before Hugh… Darling man…_

She marveled at the thickness of his curls and quickly understood why he pomaded them into submission. Feeling impish, she smiled and threaded her fingers through Jack's locks, anxious to see his hair completely mussed, courtesy of her own fingertips. When he pushed to his full height, she let her arms drape around the broadness of his shoulders and run down his chest, luxuriating in being able to touch his skin and surprised to find that he wore no singlet or sleeveless union shirt… She wouldn't have pegged her conservative Detective Inspector to be as forward-thinking as some of the American men with whom she'd been intimate, but it was apparent that he preferred separate underclothes as opposed to the more common union suit she was accustomed to finding beneath the clothing of her countrymen. As she ran her hands across his chest, she saw goose flesh rise, and looked up, searching his expression for any sign of hesitation. Of course, she found none; only confidence and adoration were shining back at her.

"Jack…" she whispered, her voice husky with long-denied desire. Unbuttoning his pants, she pushed them from his hips and let them puddle at his feet before turning her attention to his undershorts, grabbing the pull tie and preparing to bare him completely.

Jack brought one of his hands to hers, stilling their advancement as he shook his head. "Not yet, Phryne." With a kiss, he distracted her, stifling any argument she might try to levy. "Lie back," he encouraged softly. "Here," he spread his hands across her back to brace her carefully, lowering her to the turned-down bedspread, mindful of her bruises and scrapes. "You need to tell me if I start to hurt you. I don't want you to be uncomfortable…" When she shook her head to the negative, he placed his finger against her lips. "Promise me, Miss Fisher," he licked his own lips as he studied her face. "If I irritate an injury, you need to let me know so I don't do it again…"

"You won't hurt me, Jack," she trusted him implicitly. Knowing, however, that he needed the reassurance, she nodded. "But I will let you know. I promise."

Crawling over her, Jack kept his weight suspended above her supine body, and kissed her again. He was quite certain that he'd never enjoyed kissing a woman as much as he enjoyed kissing this insufferable, witty, reckless, amazing minx. Not even Rosie... And now that he had kissed her, he never wanted to stop.

The next several moments progressed steadily as his shifted down the length of her body, tugging away her underthings and stockings, each article removed only when she gave the eye contact he needed to communicate her permission. When he was finally kneeling at the foot of the bed, her dainty feet settled between his parted thighs, he admired the complete scene before him as she was laid bare to his gaze.

Anything he could have said would pale in comparison to the way he felt about her, to the way he saw her, so he opted to show her instead. With sure hands, he smoothed his calloused palms up her legs, starting at her ankles and working up to her thighs, tenderly encouraging them to part for him.

Phryne lost all sensibility and recognition of the passage of time. All she knew was that Jack Robinson had been hiding his amazing talents for far too long. He was sensual, sensitive, and surprisingly adventurous and adept. She wasn't sure what, exactly, she had been expecting, but the sensations she was experiencing caught her completely unawares.

True to his word, Jack took his time exploring her body in the most intimate of ways. His fingers plucked at her as if she was an exquisitely crafted Steinway and he the master virtuoso for whom she was designed. He coaxed from her some of the most erotic sounds he'd ever heard; it was music to his ears and he promised himself he'd hear it again, and again, and again… _and_ he promised her that she'd be making them again, and again, and again…

He kept her teetering on the edge for extended moments, _for all Phryne knew it was_ _ **hours**_ , bringing her ever closer before abruptly changing the angle of his touch or lessening the pressure, only to build her up again in an agonizingly delicious cycle.

When Phryne finally tumbled, encouraged by Jack's fingers between her thighs as his lips latched onto her nipple, she thought she was going to cry. It was an emotion she didn't typically associate with sexual gratification, but as Jack slowed his movements to carry her through her climax, moving his mouth up to her throat to press the flat of his tongue against her pulse point while murmuring endearments, she realized that being with Jack was what made all the difference.

Finally catching her breath, the Honorable Miss Fisher found herself speechless. She inhaled deeply and palmed his cheek when he shifted, bracing himself over her by on leaning his elbow as he moved his hand to her hip.

Noticing the un-shed tears, Jack swallowed a lump of fear that instantly lodged itself in his throat.

"Was that…" He suddenly feared that perhaps he'd misread the signals that her body had been emanating, indicating that she enjoyed his attentions. Maybe he'd made a mistake by edging her, by not allowing her release sooner, and now she was disappointed… He could only hope he hadn't ruined any chances to redeem himself and to prove his worthiness of being with her. "Are you alright?"

"Jack," she breathed, smiling with affection. "You dear, dear man… I'm _more_ than alright…" She tilted her head when she saw his obvious relief. "Please don't tell me you thought I'd feel anything less...?"

He smiled; not the barely-there smile that he often let slip amongst his colleagues, but a broad, seldom-seen expression that completely transformed his face. It was something that he allowed very few people to witness; at least, it had been very few people since he returned from war. There was something about Phryne Fisher, however, that broke through his stoic, unflappable barriers, and it had been that way since almost the beginning… and he was ever so happy that he hadn't banished her from his life during that first case. Coming back to the moment, he simply stroked her cheek, meeting her eyes and brushing her fringe back from her forehead.

"I thought I had disappointed…"

Determined to ease any other doubts that may be lurking beneath the surface, Phryne pushed him onto his back and immediately crawled over him, straddling his hips. "You could never disappoint me, Jack Robinson…"

He reached up and cupped the back of her head, pulling her down into a searing kiss. When she started to shift, lining their centers against each other, his palms grasped her hips and held her still.

"Not yet, Miss Fisher…" Seeing her pout a split instant before her gaze turned wicked, he chuckled and maneuvered her to his side again, returning to their previous position. "There is something else I intend to do first…. After all," he cocked an eyebrow, "I am a man of my word…"

Her instinct was to argue, to push and tug until she got her way, but when he started trailing his hot mouth down her throat and between her breasts, continuing downward, she found herself, once again, at a loss for words and possessing an even less ambitious or valid argument for anything to the contrary. There was something shocking and amazing about the idea of Jack wanting to satisfy her by settling his shoulders between her thighs. She had often dreamed of his mouth - so appallingly expressive - but, she never imagined that he would so eagerly initiate such an activity.

While the Lady Detective had always suspected her buttoned-up, straight-laced Inspector was no stranger to the passions and pleasures of the boudoir, she hadn't expected such an avid desire to perform orally. In her time, she'd encountered lovers from one end of the spectrum to the other, in terms of their willingness to take her with their mouths, and she was quite pleased to be able to put Jack high on the scale of ' _Willing'_.

With a sigh and a keen plan to reciprocate, _later_ , Phryne let herself fall open to him, to his explorations and experiments. And she was not disappointed. Not for a moment…

Jack moved down her body, his mouth trailing behind his fingers as he traveled, memorizing the feel and taste of her as he did. When he found a dimple with his fingertips, he explored it with his mouth. When she giggled in ticklish response, he nipped playfully with his teeth. When she gasped and sighed in surprised arousal, he parted her feminine petals with the tip of his inquisitive tongue before running the flat of it from base to top, groaning in approval of her flavor.

Alternating between rapid flicks and slow, languid suckles, he repeated his teasing technique of keeping her on edge. He yearned to taste her as she exploded for him, but at the same time, he longed to demonstrate his desire to completely satisfy her every need; to ensure that she was not left wanting, or feeling unfulfilled. When, from his spot between her parted thighs, he looked up the length of her body, he saw her take her breasts in her own hands and pinch her nipples, Jack didn't want to deny her any longer. With a quick shift of attention, he pushed two fingers deep into her core and brushed them against the upper wall of her canal, instantly finding the spongy tissue he knew would help push her over the cliff. He sucked her clit into the heat of his mouth, thrashing it with his tongue as his eyes never left her face.

 _Oh God_ , she breathed a sigh, trying to force her legs wider, though her hips were already flexed to the max. Rocking against his mouth and pushing down on his fingers, her body was quickly spiraling out of control and in an unusual twist of sensations, the room felt like it was spinning around her, like she was falling down into a deep well, with very little desire to ever re-emerge.

"Let go, Phryne," he spoke against her sex, the vibrations of his deep baritone radiating through her flesh. "Come for me."

His quiet, gentle command ultimately pushed her to the point of shattering and she let his name drip from her tongue like a mantra; a single word repeated in prayer, anchoring her to the here-and-now while she rode the waves of one of the most powerful climaxes she'd ever experienced.

For Jack, the vision of her splintering at his doing was awe-inspiring as his hand and tongue were coated with the evidence of her pleasure… of the pleasure _he'd_ brought about. His chest swelled with male pride as his tongue slowed and he gently carried her through the ebb and flow of her orgasm. When her fluttering muscles ceased their frenzied quivers, he withdrew his fingers and cleaned them with his mouth, meeting her hooded eyes unapologetically.

She smiled lazily and reached down, grabbing his shoulders to pull him up. "Jack," she hummed. "You're wearing too many clothes…" Chuckling playfully, she shimmied her hands between their bodies and found the tie that was holding his undershorts in place. Once untied, she pushed them and smirked in satisfaction when he took over, finally removing them completely.

Pleased with what she discovered, Phryne noted that the inspector of her imagination _paled_ in comparison to the real thing. Almost in a trance, she extended her hand, reaching for his arousal, but he caught her wrist gently. When her eyes swiveled up to meet his, she saw desperation in the depths of his blues.

"Phryne," he grunted. "If you do that, this will be over far too soon…"

Wishing to reciprocate how good he's made her feel, she smiled sweetly. "We have all night, Jack."

He swallowed thickly. "The first time I come with you," he hoped she would understand, "I want to be buried deep inside…"

Phryne did understand, and she adored Jack for his ways. While he may be more liberal-minded than she first gave him credit for, he was still a man who felt deeply, seriously, wholeheartedly. Nodding, she smiled warmly and patted the bed beside her. She suspected that Jack would prefer to have their first union in a more traditional position, like missionary, but she knew the injuries on her back would not withstand the friction that a man's thrusts would typically create.

"Lay here, Jack," she eyed him wickedly. "It's my turn to make you feel amazing…"

Jack was more than willing to accept the invitation, understanding why she was asking that he lay down. The last thing he wanted to do was aggravate her injuries by putting his weight on her body. As soon as he was settled, plush pillows piled high beneath his shoulders, she was crawling over him like a cat stalking her prey. With a hungry gaze, she straddled his hips and began rubbing her wetness against the underside of his erection, which was straining upward towards his abdomen.

When he felt her drenching heat spreading along his length, he grunted and palmed her hips firmly, throwing his head back. " _Fuck_ , Phryne," he cursed involuntarily, instantly unsure if he should apologize for the profanity but unable to form a coherent thought while simply trying to refrain from exploding. When she leaned down, however, to whisper into his ear, he knew he'd never have to ponder apologies for such a thing in the future.

"That's the idea, _Jack_ ," she purred, grinding down against his pelvis. "It's been my idea for a long, long time…"

She lifted herself over him, watching as he took himself in hand to line up their centers. When she caught his eyes, she slowly lowered her body, impaling herself onto him inch by inch until he was fully engulfed by her flames and they both groaned in relief.

Phryne sighed and started rocking, her speed picking up steadily. He was cradled inside of her perfectly, his girth and length reaching all the right places and threatening to push her over the edge in record timing. She spanned her hands across his chest to give her the leverage she needed as she continued to move, each of her downward rolls met in impeccable timing with an upthrust from him.

Jack bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hold out long enough to bring Phryne to another climax, but the increased tingling at the base of his spine warned that his efforts were swiftly failing. Releasing her hip, he brought his thumb to the juncture where their bodies met and quickly found her hungry bundle of nerves, fully engorged and begging for relief. Moving his other hand up to her breast, he palmed her, his touch just this side of rough.

"Come for me, Phryne. One more time, Love."

His low voice caused tremors to rake through her over-sensitized body and she tried to delay just a few minutes more, desperate to prolong the sweet torture. "Not yet," she pleaded. "Together. Come with me, Jack…"

"Let go, Phryne. I promise, I won't be far behind…" With that, he pressed particularly hard against her clit, sending her sailing into her orgasm with a grateful, throaty cry. When she clenched all around him, her sweet juices coating him completely, he knew he was a goner. Grabbing her hips again, he held her still as he thrust up once, twice and a third and final time. With a mighty growl, he emptied himself deep inside as she was still enjoying the waves of her release.

Collapsing against his chest in exhaustion, Phryne nuzzled beneath Jack's chin and relished in the feeling of his fingers dancing carefully along her back. Reaching down, she grabbed the edge of the top sheet and pulled it half-heartedly over their bodies, mumbling sleepily.

"Just a kip, Jack… I'm not done with you yet…"

~MFMM~

Downstairs, Hugh and Dot stood in the foyer saying goodnight, and were startled into silence at the somewhat frightening sounds that echoed down the staircase. Hugh's first instinct was to slip into Constable-mode and make sure that the household was safe, but Dot's hand on his shoulder and the wordless shake of her head held him in place. Following her line of sight, he spotted the Inspector's coat and fedora hanging from their customary hook and after a split second of realization, the young man swallowed hard.

"Oh…" His heart started racing and he felt a little sick. "Right…." Turning back to his sweetheart, he briefly wondered if all women sounded like that when they did _that_ … Or did it depend on the skills of the man to make a woman squeal in apparent pleasure… Would he possess the requisite skills, he pondered. And in return, would his own response be so vocal? Against his better judgement, he let his mind flit to the contraband book Miss Fisher had given him on the sly when he'd first started courting Dot, and his cheeks flamed with heat. He quickly knew that if he didn't get out of the house _immediately_ , he was going to embarrass himself in front of Dottie the more he thought about _that_.

Watching her beau take a quick exit, _more like an escape_ , Dorothy smirked, she couldn't help but giggle. She remembered how embarrassed she was the first time she thought someone was hurting her Miss Fisher, and she felt particularly modern that she understood at least a bit more about what was going on upstairs than her sweet Constable did.

~MFMM~

When the sun poked through a sliver in the heavy curtains the following morning, Jack smiled before he even opened his eyes, thankful for the sweet weight against his chest. Pressing a kiss into her tousled bob, he turned his eyes away from the bright streak of sunlight peeking in, not ready to face the day. As he glanced to his left, he saw his new suit, freshly pressed and hanging on a suit valet stand tucked against the wall just inside the door, ready for him to don.

 _Mr. Butler is a gem_ , he thought as he let his eyelids fall closed again. Surprising himself, he didn't even mind that the houseman had entered the boudoir while he was still there…while their nudity was only covered with a flimsy sheet. However, it certainly beat the alternative, of re-dressing in yesterday's wrinkled suit after rescuing it from wherever it landed on the floor. _I'll thank him properly later_ , he thought again, letting himself drift back off into a welcome slumber, with the sleepy warmth of the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher tucked under his arm.

 **Postscript A/N**

 **Thanks for reading and thanks again for the welcome into this fandom as I entered my first fic. I hope to write again for MFMM and hone my understanding of the characters and take them places that the show couldn't. As I said before, I do love a good what-If scenario and enjoy finding new paths for characters to explore.**

 **peace & love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


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